The Ultimate Deception
by Sunrise over the Tango Factory
Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures as Rimmer decides to do the decent, honourable thing. He volunteers Lister to go through the ultimate humiliation in order to avoid certain death and, of course, acts like a total git throughout.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay. New Story (cue collective groan from everyone)**

**I wrote this in a bid to free myself from the clutches of the dreaded Writers Block Monster. Be warned. It's going to get weird. No doubt about it.**

**I think I've outdone myself with this first chapter though – its not even Red Dwarf related. Amazing – a Red Dwarf fan fic with no Red Dwarf in its opening chapter….oh well.**

**Reviews welcomed!**

**Enjoy.**

There has yet to be another animal quite like the human.

In many ways it is by far the most complex yet endearing creature ever to grace this earth (with the obvious exception of the duckbilled platypus) however, they could also be classed as the very worst, most destructive creature to have existed (again, with the obvious exception of the duckbilled platypus).

Name another animal that has wars? Or one that has developed, gruesome, inhumane ways of killing it's own kind? What other creature, besides humans, would ever wear open toed sandals and socks, or willingly go on 'Big Brother'?

And I ask you, has there ever been another animal stupid enough to vote George W Bush for president twice!

No.

It is only humans who carry out such dastardly deeds. Their acts of ignorance and stupidity are fuelled by their desire to make others feel inferior. They've created various ways and methods to allow mankind to feel as if they truly were the greatest species ever to draw breath. Money, jewels, property, status, image, names, titles, breeding, and possessions: all sorts of things that they could wave in each others faces cooing 'I've got something you haven't!'

But there was one thing that prevented them from being totally superior. Their biggest downfall!

Death.

That foul five lettered word that sent a cold shiver down the spines of any self respecting human. It signalled the end of everything they'd ever worked for; it stripped them of whatever status they'd acquired because everyone died. Both kings and beggars went to meet their maker eventually. It was the one thing all humans had in common.

Death.

Needless to say humans set about this problem like they did with most other things….by finding a way to stop it.

The world was filled with anti-aging creams, vitamins, supplements, minerals, health foods, diet books, exercise equipment, plastic surgery, botox, face lifts, body enhancements, hypnosis CDs - everything to allow humans to grasp onto every second of life before the bitter end….but it was never enough.

Mankind was still susceptible to disease and illness, they still had 'accidents' with buses, cliffs, ladders, hacksaws, electricity and other deadly items which contributed to their 'untimely end', they still crammed their bodies with toxins like alcohol, drugs, cigarettes and fast food…they still died!

Human beings, like every other animal on the planet, were dangerously and depressingly mortal. It wasn't long before the entire population was gripped by the desire to live forever, to be invincible, and to be unquestioningly _superior!_

Money was poured into research labs, the developments dominating the front pages of newspapers for weeks on end. People's hopes were raised only to be dashed as the trials failed and yet another journey back to the drawing board was required.

But then, finally, after centuries of mankind hoping, begging, praying and pleading, scientists found the cure for death.

The elixir of life.

Dr Richard Alleyne had been sat at his workstation, surrounded by piles of notes, graphs and reports, watching Smuffy the lab rat running on his little wheel. He rubbed his tired eyes and blinked till the screen of his computer came into focus. His eyes suddenly shot open, wide and awake as he read the information before him.

Everyone (hopefully) knows that the human body is made up of cells, which from the moment of conception are duplicating and deteriorating on a regular basis till you die. This is the fundamental basis of the aging process. Scientists had been racking their brains for a way to simply 'turn off' this process, to stop cells from duplicating and eventually deteriorating, and as a result defer death, but everything they'd tried had ended in failure…until now.

Richard stared at the lab rat in front of him, who stared back, twitched its whiskers and carried on running. The doctor darted back to the computer screen and hastily re-read the results. A tingling, dizzying feeling of hope, joy and disbelief took hold of him.

If this was correct, Smuffy's cells had stopped duplicating and they'd also stopped dying - he was no longer ageing.

Richard quickly repeated the procedure with another lab rat, and nearly laughed out loud as he got the same result. He tried it once more to be sure before screaming, whooping, clapping, singing, dancing, laughing, cheering and crying.

Dr Richard Alleyne, soon to be Nobel Prize winner, had just found the cure for death!

With shaking hands he held up the vial of green liquid and grinned like he had never grinned before.

This tiny test tube contained the biggest scientific breakthrough since the 'discovery' of atoms.

The elixir of life would put an end to death.

Little did Richard know that his discovery would set off a truly disastrous chain of events, which one day would result in a tub of hot leg wax, a game of pool and a diamond necklace.

**Note: I don't support animal testing, but it was necessary for the story. Not animals were harmed in the writing of this fan fiction (although one of them did go a bit crazy and bit Dr Alleyne)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: See, it is a Red Dwarf fan fic…not just some moronic ramblings from a insane 17 year old fan girl with no social life…oh wait….never mind.**

**Reviews welcomed!**

Dave Lister was sleeping.

Or, to be accurate, he had been sleeping. Up until two minutes ago, he'd been safely curled up in the warm embrace of slumber, with only his dreams for company.

But Arnold Rimmer, taking full advantage of his brand, spanking new hard light drive had violently shook the snoozing human awake and informed him (rather too loudly for Lister's liking) that he was late for his shift, and how it was unprofessional and ludicrously stupid to leave the cockpit unmanned.

Lister had then asked who, if Rimmer was here pestering him, was currently manning the cockpit, and the hologram's smirk slid southwards and he quickly exited the bunkroom, shouting after him to "get up!"

Groaning, Lister fell back under the blankets, enjoying the temporary sanctuary it provided from irritating holograms and appalling shift times. Knowing he'd only be able to pinch a few minutes more of comfort before Rimmer would come looking for him again; Lister physically dragged himself out of bed. He hastily pulled on some clothes that happened to be lying around and staggered sleepily towards the cockpit.

When he arrived, Rimmer was sat staring out into space, his lips pressed tightly together, as if he were trying to stop anything so much as an air particle from getting in. His eyes flicked briefly in Lister's direction before they narrowed in distaste.

"You took your time" he muttered, folding his arms across his chest and glaring into the star speckled gloom.

"Sorry" said Lister, though not actually meaning a single syllable of the word. Truth be told, he was only apologising to get Rimmer off his back. Out of the twenty four hours that the day provided, Lister was least able to cope with the bitter hologram in the three or four hours following waking up, which he counted as 'morning'.

"So you should be" sniffed Rimmer, standing up and turning to face Lister "My shift ended at 4 am sharp." He paused and made a big show of checking his watch "it is now 4 Oh 7!"

"7 Minutes" said Lister, setting his strong black coffee down on the console and shrugging "Big deal!"

Rimmer's top lip began to curl "8 minutes and counting!"

"Oh my god!" said Lister, in mock horror "That makes a whole world of difference!" he gave Rimmer a typical scouse smirk before settling down in the pilots seat.

"Well, yes it does actually!" said Rimmer "That's 8 minutes of my life wasted! Gone. Forever!"

"Just add them to the however many years of your life you've wasted."

"Lister, I'll have you know I've spent my life doing _many_ profitable and interesting things, gaining experiences which I will treasure for the rest of my days." Said Rimmer, doing his best to defend his exceptionally bleak existence.

"You died aged 31, having spent 15 years of your life de-gunking chicken soup machines, you played Risk with people who make Bill Gates look cool, collect photos of 20th century telegraph poles and you can count your sexual experiences on one finger-" sniggered Lister "That's hardly what I'd describe as profitable and interesting Rimmer! Most Jehovah's witnesses have lived a more exciting life than you!"

"Yeah…well" replied Rimmer, curling his bony hands round into a pair of pathetic looking fists "It's not my fault I never got any breaks. Life's been cruel to me! I could have really been someone if I hadn't been born a no-body! And as for the 'sexual experiences' bit, that's not my fault either!"

"Then whose fault is it?" asked Lister, genuinely intrigued as to who Rimmer could blame for his lack of nookie.

"Yours." Said Rimmer, automatically "It's your fault!"

"What?" laughed Lister "It's my fault you never got laid?"

"Yes" replied the hologram "Because whenever we met women, you always put me down and made me look like a complete idiot!"

"Oh Rimmer…you looked like a complete idiot all by yourself, you didn't need any help from me!"

Rimmer ignored him and carried on with his rant "We've been over this before. You always took the piss out of me in front of women. You ruined my pulling power!"

Lister rolled his eyes "You have no pulling power. You've got 'pushing power' – you repel women! I'm tellin' you man, if there was an achievement award for the male who repels women the best, you'd walk off with first, second and third place" the human swivelled round to meet Rimmer's glare and grinned "_and_ you'd receive an honourable mention as well!"

"It's still all your fault!" said Rimmer sourly, "If it hadn't been for you I could have been the stud of Red Dwarf!"

"Come off it Rimmer!" replied Lister, feeling this argument was getting a tad out of hand "You were getting knocked back by women long before you met me, so stop making excuses!"

An uneasy silence descended upon the cockpit. Lister turned back to the console and pretending to be checking some readouts, whilst Rimmer bounced on the balls of his feet, chewing his lip. He checked his watch "13 minutes of my life gone, all thanks to you!"

"Oh for smegs sake!" snapped Lister, getting to his feet and storming over to the hologram, who was obviously spoiling for a fight "You love doing that don't you? Blaming me for everything, and I mean _everything_" he began to tick things off on his fingers "you blame me for you not passing your exams, for not becoming an officer, for not going up that smegging ziggurat. You blame me your lack of social life, for your lack of sex life, for your lack of any life, for your death. Rimmer you even blamed me for the conservatives coming to power in the 1970s!"

"So?"

"So!" repeated Lister, half laughing in disbelief "Rimmer, I wasn't even born! Me mum wasn't even born. I'm pretty sure me gran wasn't even born then!"

"Lister, does this rant have a point?" asked Rimmer, with an overly exaggerated look of boredom plastered on his features.

"Yeah" snapped Lister "The point is you never take responsibility for your own mistakes do you? It's always somebody elses fault isn't it? Me, well I'm different, if I screw up on summat I hold me hands up and say 'yeah, it's all my fault'!"

Rimmer sighed and attempted to stare past Lister, and almost immediately wished he hadn't. A fairly cumbersome meteorite was tumbling its way towards Starbug on a direct collision course. The hologram barely had enough time for the colour to drain from his face before the meteorite hit, sending Starbug and its contents hurtling backwards, where upon it spiralled out of control and took a far from elegant nose dive downwards.

The extremely hard looking ground of the planetoid came racing up to meet the craft as it sliced its way through the atmosphere, and tore through the earth before skidding to a stop.

There was a moment of brief silence, broken only by the high pitched whining of the engines before Lister, who had somehow ended up in the midsection during all the commotion, painfully raised an arm and muttered sheepishly "My fault…"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Apologies to Sian, ZK and Ryan for annoying them all evening!**

**Reviews welcomed! **

Rimmer knew it was going to be bad news.

He could tell by the expression on Kyten's face. That face which made him look as if a pair of grabbling hooks were tugging his jaw line towards the floor. That face that etched the words 'worry' into the creases of his plastic frown. He only used it when the situation was dire, so nowadays it was pretty much in constant use.

Kyten's gaze quickly shifted to the floor, and he wrung his hands anxiously but didn't utter a word.

Lister exchanged a nervous glance with Cat before asking that all ready ill-fated question "well?"

Kryten gave a loud, guilt ridden wail before throwing himself onto Lister's shoulders and sobbing uncontrollably. The human sighed and pushed him away, not in the right mind frame to deal with mechanoid melodramatics.

Cat gave a toothy grin "Its good news, yeah?"

Rimmer fixed him with a cold stare before asking to no-one in particular "Why am I stuck on a spacecraft with a specimen that could 'out stupid' a jar of slime with the brain capacity of Jade Goody, Paris Hilton and Jessica Simpson following a double lobotomy!"

"Hey hey" snapped Cat, holding up a perfectly manicured hand to try and silence Rimmer "That's uncalled for!" He looked towards Lister "Sure, he's a little on the slow side, but what he lacks in brains he more than makes up for in enthusiasm!"

Lister shook his head, and allowed a flicker of annoyance to show on his face "He means you, ya div!"

"Me?" repeated Cat, arching his eyebrows slightly "You think I'm thick?"

"No" retorted Rimmer "I _know_ you're thick!" and feeling that response had just about finished Cat off, he simply stood and looked smug.

"Oh yeah" snarled Cat, rolling back his shirt sleeves with the diamond encrusted cuffs and baring his fangs "Well, I may be dumb, but I know one thing-"

"_One thing_!" interrupted Rimmer, pretending to be shocked yet impressed "Wow, clearly I've not been giving you enough credit!" he smirked "And there I was thinking you had less brain cells than you had noses!"

Just as Cat was about to leap onto Rimmer, Lister intervened "Guys, this is gettin' us nowhere…"

"Much like your piloting" snapped Rimmer, not intent on letting the little git spoil his fun, he turned back to Cat and shot him a glare that would have withered a Venus fly trap "China had the right idea about what to do with useless felines…Whack to the head, forty minutes in the oven, gas mark 6, serve with a side order of rice and Yum Yum's you're uncle!"

"Rimmer. Shut the smeg up!" said Lister, raising his voice in the hope he'd take the hint "We've got bigger problems on our hands" he looked at the mechanoid who was still squirming with worry "honestly Kryten, how bad is it?"

He shuffled about for a second or two before answering "bad"

"Can you be a bit more specific?" said Rimmer sourly

"Very bad" whimpered Kryten, wringing his hands harder than ever

Rimmer dragged a hand down his face and groaned from the very bottom of his boots, before attempting to smile serenely "Define bad-"

Kryten began flapping his hands about and gave another strangled sob before bursting into a second lot of hysterics which once again ended up with him wrapped around Lister's shoulders.

"Kryten" said Lister forcefully, shoving him away "Get a grip man. You're the brains of this operation!"

"Oh god" deadpanned Rimmer, "We're doomed" He paused, before seeing an excellent opportunity to dish out some insults to those he hated most "If he's the brain Listy, you must be the armpit!"

"And you must be the arse!" replied Lister, as quick as ever.

Before Rimmer could respond Cat leapt in with his own contribution "I'll be the knee of the operation!"

That comment brought any argument that was about to occur to an abrupt stop. Lister, Rimmer and Kryten just stared at Cat, dumfounded by utter confusion.

"What?" asked Lister eventually

"I'll be the knee!" replied Cat proudly, puffing out his chest slightly. There was another pause as they all tried to make sense of this statement.

"Why?" asked Rimmer

"No reason" shrugged the feline "I'd just like to be the knee!"

Lister shook his head in an attempt to expel Cat's crazy comment from his thoughts "Okay, now that we've all established what body part we are in relation to this operation-"

"Hang on!" said Rimmer, butting in "I never agreed to be the arse!"

But Lister ignored him "Lets get on to the real issue….Kryten, exactly how bad was the crash?"

"Terrible sir. Simply awful" he replied "Starbug's a complete write off!"

"No offence meant Playdough head, but wasn't this thing a write off when we got it?" asked Cat "how can you trash something that's already trashed?"

"Starbug's a tough old girl" dismissed Lister "She's been through worse scrapes than this. She's fine" he paused "She's gotta be…"

"I'm afraid sir, this is one crash too many. The chances of repairing her are slimmer than a Catwalk models little finger!"

"C'mon" said Lister, refusing to accept this big, ugly green rust bucket that he'd come to think of as a home away from home was well and truly destined for the scrap heap. "Surely, there's some chance, a shot at gettin' her working' again!"

"Lister, wise up" sniped Rimmer "Half the hulls caved away, we're down to one working engine, the oxy-generation unit's shot to ribbons, the fuel tanks are leaking, the thrusters are on their last legs and all the doors squeak – you'd be lucky if you could sell this pile of junk to Jeremy Clarkson for him to spit on!"

Lister frowned in grim determination "Kryten, you and me are gonna try and get this baby fixed, Cat you go try and patch up the fuel tanks, and Rimmer can do what he's good at – crying for help" and with that he walked out of the midsection, quickly followed by Kryten and Cat.

Rimmer blinked in mild surprise, before yelling after him "You've got about as much chance as fixing this thing as Great Britain have winning the Eurovision song contest!" he folded his arms across his chest and sloped off to the cockpit.

Sighing wearily, he flopped down into the now lopsided pilots chair and pressed the button of the communicator before barking into the microphone "May day….May day"

He waited a second or two, before tutting in disgust at the lack of response. He pressed the button again "May day." He said, "This is Arnold Rimmer of the JMC vehicle Starbug, can anyone read me?" he waited, but white noise just crackled back at him.

After nearly twenty minutes of 'May daying', white noise was the only thing Rimmer had talked to. Things were getting serious. He ran a hand through his mop of unruly curls and muttered profanities under his breath, before reaching once more for the communicator button "This is Arnold Rimmer of the JMC vehicle Starbug with an official statement – I hate my life!". Rimmer then slumped back in the chair and groaned.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the speaker cackled and hissed before bursting into action and said "Surely it's not that bad, Mr Rimmer?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Greetings, I know you're all busy people so I'll make this quick.**

**Thanks to Sian for reviewing, to other people for reading and this is a desperate plea to ZK to stop being such a good student and get her arse online more!**

**Ahem…**

**Thankies!**

**All reviews will be given a good home and lots of TLC!**

**Sunny**

**XXX**

**P.s does anyone know why the 'ruler' tool won't work on Edit/Preview?**

**P.p.s - anyone going DJ this year? **

Rimmer sat and stared at the speaker, wondering if he'd finally gone mad. Years in the company of Lister could do that to a person.

He pressed the reply button and asked tentatively "Er….hello?"

"Mr Rimmer, pleasure to meet you" it replied "I'm Gregory Samuel Douglas Watson Smyth of the S.S Centurion. We picked up your distress signal. I take it you require assistance?"

"Yes!" squeaked Rimmer in sweet, joyous relief "Are you going to help us?"

There was the briefest of brief pauses before the speaker sniggered "No."

Rimmer's expression melted smoothly from 'relieved' to 'utterly smegged off', and even though this Gregory Samuel Douglas Watson Smyth, whoever he was, couldn't see him, he glared "Then why the hell are you responding to our S.O.S signal then?"

"No particular reason" said Mr Smyth, whose parents obviously believed that the phrase 'less is more' doesn't apply to names for their offspring "We've not come across anybody new for quite some time now, so we thought we'd better say 'Hello' and-" the speaker crackled as he laughed. A harsh, irritating, braying laugh that's most often heard at Ascot, when someone has just told a hilarious witticism about the incompetent caddie at their exclusive golf club "-Goodbye I suppose!"

Rimmer paled. A cold, tingly sweat dripped down from his scalp, his hands began to tremble and his throat decided it was a good time to close up "Now hold on" he managed to croak, clinging to the edge of the console for support "You- you can't just respond to an S.O.S signal and not do any S.O.Sing! It is now your duty to save us!"

"Why should we?" drawled Gregory 'Far too many middle names' Smyth, his words oozing out of the speakers like smoke "We've received details of your craft. It's the old JMC Class 2 Ship-to-surface vessel is it not?"

"Yes"

"The one with the notorious design flaws which has an infamous reputation for crashing on a regular basis?"

"Not regular" said Rimmer "More like daily…"

"Either way Mr Rimmer, it would be a waste of fuel, time and energy saving you and your 'craft'. You have nothing of value on board and unless we become distinctly desperate for a large quantity of scrap metal in the next two minutes, you and your flying dustbin are useless to us!"

"But" began Rimmer, fear caressing his insides with its icy, withering touch

"Also, I feel its worth mentioning that the particular planet you chose to crash onto is highly unstable. It's subject to tremors, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, floods, landslides, typhoons, hurricanes – and if that doesn't kill you, I'm sure the hostile atmosphere and lack of water and vegetation will."

Rimmer felt the bottom of his stomach fall away, leaving nothing but a queasy void in its wake and for a second he felt like he was going to pass out.

"Good day Mr Rimmer" said Gregory Samuel Douglas Watson Smyth, his voice jerking Rimmer out of his reverie "And good luck" and with a final, braying laugh that made his toes curl, the communicator went dead.

Rimmer's brain began to panic. If it had arms, it would have been flapping them about in a worried fashion, and if it had a mouth it would have been whimpering gibberish. It hastily scrolled through possible ideas and plans to get the people on the S.S Centurion to help him. 30 precious, life threatening seconds ticked by and Rimmer became more desperate. The ideas got wilder, crazier, and more outrageous.

Then inspiration struck Rimmer right between the eyes and made him smile. An idea so crazy, so wild and so stupid it just might work.

He quickly leant forward, jabbed the communicator button so hard he nearly snapped his finger in two and said "We've got a woman on board!"

Intrigued murmurings broke through the static before someone asked "A woman?"

"Oh yes" grinned Rimmer, extremely pleased with himself "You know, the usual – long hair, breasts, a distinct lack of penis….a woman"

There was a full minute of contemplation, where the people of the S.S Centurion hissed and whispered amongst each other about what they should do. Rimmer decided to give them a nudge in the right direction.

"Of course, you being such fine, upstanding gentlemen, you'd want to do the chivalrous thing and save a lady from a gruesome, painful death at the hands of nature" he paused, knowing full well that they were hanging onto his every word "And she's such a pretty little thing…"

"Very well Mr Rimmer" came the instant reply "You've convinced us. We're plotting a course to your vessel. It'll take us about a week to get there but rest assured, the planetoids still fairly stable and it's not due to have any significant terrain changes for some time yet. Our craft has suitable facilities to fix yours and we'll be the most gracious of hosts while you stay with us!"

"Excellent" smirked Rimmer, leaning back in his chair and looking smug.

"Until we meet Mr Rimmer, adieu and…erm…give my regards to that lovely little lady of yours and tell her not to worry, her knights in shining armour are on their way!" More annoying laughter that Rimmer was obliged to join in with.

Just before he turned off the communicator, he heard the sound of cheering and whooping from the S.S Centurion crew, but he ignored it.

He had bigger problems to worry about.

He chewed his lip and asked himself "Where the _hell_ am I going to get a woman from?"


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: DJ ROCKED!

I've yet to stop smiling...Craig was there, looking gorgeous! I also caused quite a stir when I asked Chris Barrie if he'd heard of fan fiction...well...if anyone wants to read the transcript here it be

Me: what's your personal opinion on fan fiction, and have you ever indulged your ego and read a few?  
Cheers  
Chris: say it again, what's err-  
Me: fan fiction. What is your personal opinion of it?  
Chris: fan fiction?  
Me: Fan fiction, stories about red dwarf written by fans.  
Chris looks confused, more whoops and cheers by DJers  
Chris: Would you be offended if I said I hadn't a bloody clue what you're talking about Laughs Fan fiction?  
Me: Yes. Fan Google it.  
Lars Dad: They write red dwarf stories. They make them up.  
Me: They make their own red dwarf stories and they write them and they're on the internet and people review.  
Chris: You put them on the internet and erm – I haven't seen them, give an example of one mass squealing and laughing Not the whole story, just the key points  
Me: There's – not to offend you or to freak you out or anything Chris, but there is an awful lot of slash fan fiction  
more hysterics  
Chris: an awful lot of what?  
Me: Some people read into the fact that Mr Rimmer and Mr Lister will become 'united' as a couple!  
Cheers and clapping whilst Chris busies himself with his drink  
Chris: Look, we had one kiss…It was a hell of a kiss more cheering but there's no…a kiss is not something you can base a whole relationship on.  
Me: Believe me Mr Barrie, these people have!  
Chris: Have they? Well, are they in this room?  
Me: Stand up, c'mon!  
Chris: Yeah, well okay….it's her points to girl sat on Team D's table I mean, some people like collecting stamps and some people are doing fan fiction erm…and erm…I guess its kind of up to the individual pause Thank you for that question, you can sit down now!

Sorry Chris, and sorry to anyone whos already heard this story.

Okay, quick thank you to all reviewers and readers! Danke!

Peace out!

Sunny

XXXX

* * *

Rimmer was still chewing his lip when Lister came stumbling into the midsection, his clothes and face smeared with oil and grime. Despite the severity of the situation, and the bombshell he was about to drop, Rimmer still found the time and energy to spread some nastiness "Going out somewhere nice?" he smirked, taking in Lister's oily attire "or are you all dolled up with no-where to go?"

"Smeg off Rimmer" came Lister's automated response

The hologram feigned disappointment "Not one of your wittier retorts" he said "but perhaps you're having a bad day."

By this time Cat and Kryten had returned. Kryten was as dirty as Lister was, his plastic body was streaky with oil and dirt lounged quite leisurely in the creases of his plastic features. Cat however, remained as pristine as ever with not so much as a sweat stain or a speck of dirt on his all cream ensemble.

"Any luck?" asked Lister, attempting to wipe the oil from his forehead but instead just smearing it further round his face.

Cat gave a solemn shake of his head "We're deader than neon coloured leg warmers and leggings!"

"It's worse than we first thought sir" whimpered Kryten "Much much worse!"

"Gentlemen" said Rimmer, in a voice that made the others wary "Worry not, for_ I_ have some good news!"

"Oh god" said Lister

Rimmer scowled "What d'you mean 'oh god'?"

"Good news for you means bad news for us!" sneered Cat

"Well, this is good news for all of us, especially me" he paused "I've found us a ship – they responded to our S.O.S signal and they're coming to help us!"

The reaction that Rimmer received didn't exactly fit with the reaction he'd envisaged. Firstly Lister, Cat and Kryten exchanged looks of utter disbelief, before studying Rimmer's face for any trace of dishonesty before eventually looking worried.

"Seriously?" asked Lister, raising a sceptic eyebrow

"Yes" said Rimmer, sounding a little put out

More bewildered looks were exchanged between the trio before Kryten had the sense to say "Oh, er….well done sir"

"There's just one teensy tiny little snag I'd best mention sooner rather than later…"

"Oh here we go" said Lister "I knew it was too good to be true! So what's the 'snag' then? Is it a GELF slave ship that's coming to help us, who just so happens to need another 3 slaves which you've so _graciously _provided!"

"No" snapped Rimmer "Actually, it's not that big a deal!"

"We'll be the judge of that!"

"Look" said Rimmer, getting annoyed "The S.S Centurion agreed to come and help us for one reason…." He hesitated, knowing this wasn't going to go down well at all "I….I told them we had a woman on board"

There was a confused silence before Cat exclaimed "We've got a woman onboard! Why did no-one tell me? All the time I could have spent horizontal with some lovely vision of loveliness!" he made to dash off in search of the female who so far had escaped his affections but Lister grabbed his shoulder, unfortunately putting a oily hand print on his jacket in the process.

"He's lyin' man, we haven't got a woman on board"

Cat slumped dejectedly "Once again my hopes of getting laid have been dashed!"

"Correction Listy, "said Rimmer "We haven't got a woman on board _yet._"

"And where do you intend to suddenly acquire a woman from Rimmer?"

"She's already here" he replied, a smug, self righteous smirk stretching across his lips "She just needs a little…_grooming_!"

He turned to Lister and his grin took on a whole new, sinister level. It took Lister a few seconds to work out what Rimmer was hinting at "No way!" he said, as the hologram opened his mouth to speak "No smegging way!"

"Listy, you don't know what I was going to say!"

"I know damn well what you were going to say Rimmer and the answers 'no' and you are well and truly out of your smeggin' tree if you thought that'd work!"

Cat held his hand up "Out of interest H head, what were you going to say?"

Rimmer folded his arms and grinned even more "I was just going to ask if Listy fancied becoming a woman for a week or two?"

"Well that's lovely" said Cat, still as confused as ever "But shouldn't he be helping us find a lady you promised those guys?"

"Sir" said Kryten to Rimmer "Surely you're not suggesting that Mr Lister poses as a woman in order for us to get rescued!"

Cats eyes widened in understanding "Ahhh" he said, grinning "Now it makes sense" He looked Lister up and down before arching his eyebrows "Him….a her? No way!"

"Damn right" agreed Lister "Rimmer can suggest all he likes but I aint doin' it. No way! No how!"

"Listy, you're being very selfish!"

"I don't care!" snapped Lister, his voice raised in fury "What you're suggustin' Rimmer, its insane – its beyond insane – we're talkin' madder than 'One flew over the cuckoos nest'! That's how insanely insane this plan is!" he exhaled angrily "…Anyway, why does it have to be me?"

"Because you're the most feminine" said Rimmer casually.

Lister, quite rightly, exploded "WHAT!", the light fittings rattled whilst Cat and Kryten physically flinched "Are you seriously sayin' that _I_ am feminine? Womanish? Are you seriously sayin' Cat" he gestured wildly to the feline, who shrunk back at the mere mention of his name "is more masculine than I am! He wears eyeliner and lipstick for smegs sake!"

"Lister" said Rimmer, with what he hoped was a soothing voice "Think about it. Cat's so chauvinistic there's no way he could possibly be a woman. And what's it going to look like if there are females on the S.S Centurion? Those guys are gonna love me aren't they…I promise them a woman and what they get is a raving lesbian!" he paused and chanced a quick glance at Lister's expression.

It was the sort of look that not only curdled milk but petrified the cow it came from so for generations to come its descendants produced curdled milk before suddenly dying. "And besides, you've sort of already had a bit of experience of being a woman. I mean you've been pregnant, gone where no man has gone before….and you cry at all those stupid, soppy romantic films and-" he sighed "As much as it pains me to say it, you've had the most 'experience' with women, so you'll know better than any of us how they're supposed to act!"

Lister hated (really really really hated) to admit it, but there was substance to Rimmer's arguments and he felt his resistance to this situation waver, until Rimmer launched his final insult, which struck with the force of a punch to the stomach "Plus, you're the shortest!"

"WHAT!"

Cat suddenly developed an irresistible fascination with the table top and Kryten quickly shuffled off to go and round up the dust bunnies lurking in the darkened corners of the midsection – anything to avoid being part of the forthcoming slanging match, in which blood shed was certain.

"Yeah, I mean. You're not a dwarf or anything but compared to the rest of us….you're kind of….short…" he trailed off, realising this wasn't doing much to convince Lister to go along with his plan "I know you think this is a stupid idea-" Lister 'tscked' in agreement but said nothing "But it's the only way, believe me. I'm not going to try and force you to do anything. Lord knows you never do anything I want you to! But it's not too much to ask is it? Shoving on a pair of false breasts and a wig to avoid certain death?"

Rimmer was now blatantly trying the guilt trip routine. The whole 'I'm not making you do what I want but you'll feel ever so bad if you don't' thing with a sliver a friendliness thrown in for good measure.

Lister quickly averted his gaze away from Rimmer's face that bore an expression of desperation and pleading whilst trying to ignore the way his insides were squirming and wriggling about. He looked to Cat and Kryten for guidance.

"Come on bud" said Cat, pointing to himself "This is the type of face that only looks its best whilst breathing!"

"I suppose Sir, if it's the only choice we've got, you might want to lend a hand so to speak…" said Kryten.

Lister said nothing for a second or two, then sighed. It was the sort of sigh made by a man who's been bullied into doing something he knows he's going to regret "Fine" he muttered unenthusiastically "but I'm tellin' you now, it won't work!"

"We'll soon see" smirked Rimmer "But till then we've got one week to turn you into a woman. Come on, we've got a lot of work to do!"

Lister groaned and decided there and then, he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hello…tis me again.

Quick update, just to see if I can smeg off ZK a bit more by giving her yet another chapter to read. Actually, I'd better not annoy her; she's got my signed DJ booklet!

Okay, thankies to all reviewers and readers! Here, have a cookie (**throws cookies**).

Con-crit welcomed!

Thankies again!

Enjoy!

Sunny  
XXXX

* * *

Rimmer wasted no time in turning Lister into a woman. He immediately set about writing a plan of action, a detailed agenda for Lister's transformation into an individual of female orientation.

When Lister left the midsection, the hologram was giving various orders to a decidedly flustered Kryten. He retreated to the safety of his room and allowed his imagination to run wild, exploring endless problems this plan would not doubt encounter. He groaned at the mere thought of it all.

It was by far the most stupid thing Rimmer had ever suggested.

As if on cue, the hologram came striding into the room, closely followed by Kryten, with Cat sliding in after him, tagging along purely for the exclusive entertainment that was about to start.

"Okay" said Lister standing up and immediately taking control of the situation "Before I do anything, I just want to make one thing _very_ clear. I am only doing this because we're in mortal danger – that's the one and only reason why I've agreed to go along with Rimmer's wacko plan!"

Rimmer bristled slightly at this remark, but he felt it better to keep his mouth shut. He needed Lister in a good mood (are at least as 'not too intent on killing Rimmer' type mood) for what was coming up.

"Secondly" said Lister, in a voice that showed that he was nothing short of being deadly serious about this whole affair "When this is all over, and we hopefully get out alive, it never gets mentioned again. No jokes, no snide comments. Nothing. As far as I'm concerned it'll never have happened. Okay?"

"Fine" sighed Rimmer, crossing his fingers behind his back

"Good" said Lister, lying through his teeth. It wasn't good at all. Far from it, but it was something that had to be done. If there was any way of avoiding this fate, Lister would have found it by now.

"Now we've got that little dilemma sorted out" said Rimmer, rubbing his hands together "Get your pants off."

Lister did a double take, convinced that his ears had deceived him "What?"

"Part one of your transition from man to woman" said Rimmer, with a smirk on his face that wouldn't look out of place on Creulla De Ville "A leg wax"

Lister's eyes widened in horror and he hastily backed away as Kryten produced a jar of leg wax (presumably borrowed from Cat) from behind his back and shuffled about guiltily.

"You have _got _to be kiddin' me!" said Lister

"'Fraid not Listy" replied Rimmer "I tease and I taunt, I snipe and I sneer, I mock and I mimic but I never kid…"

Lister eyed the jar of hot leg wax as if it was about to grow fangs and lunge at his throat. In those few seconds he actually contemplated how much he wanted to live. Was it worth a leg wax?

"Not scared are you?" jeered Rimmer

"No" replied Lister, laughing. Male bravado - something which he wouldn't be doing for some time, not unless there was such a thing as female bravado, Before he knew what was what, he was lay on his bunk, clad only in his boxers and a t-shirt whilst Kryten heated up the hot wax.

"Now be warned, sir" explained Kryten, dripping the purple, tar like liquid onto Lister's leg "This may hurt"

Lister snickered "Kryten, please. I'm a man, I can handle it."

Rimmer smirked, but said nothing. Kryten tried his hardest to ignore his overheating guilt chip as he put the strip of cloth onto the wax, smoothed it down before ripping it off. A sound similar to that of Velcro strips being tore apart echoed about the bunk room, and you could practically taste the agony. The screams could no doubt be heard on Earth, should it still exist.

Somehow managing to scream and swear at the same time, Lister scrambled off the bed and began hobbling round the room.

Rimmer flashed a grin at Kryten, which needless to say the mechanoid did not return.

"Why would anyone want to do that?" asked Lister, gasping for breath "It's…its insane…why do that to yourself _willingly_?"

"If you'd like to get back on the bed sir, we've not even done one leg yet" Kryten, tried to usher him in the direction of the bunk but he backed away, shaking his head, a whole new level of fear in his eyes that none of them had ever seen before.

"No way" he managed to mutter, "No smeggin' way!"

Cat looked up from manicuring his nails and gave Lister a bemused look "It's no big deal. For a 'man' you're acting like a baby!"

"That's torture…." said Lister, trying to ease the pain in his leg by gently massaging it, but this proved to be a stupid thing to do as soon his fingers were covered in hot wax residue.

"Shut up" said Rimmer, smirking "and get back on the bed"

"What, without any morphine? Smeg off!"

"Look Listy, we can make this easy or….we can make it difficult. Painfully difficult" said Rimmer "The best thing you could do now is to get back on that bed, and let Kryten finish you off!"

Lister glanced from Rimmer to Kryten, then to the pot of leg wax that sat on the table, simply giggling with amusement at this human's agony. Lister chewed a finger nail nervously "Are you sure this is all necessary" he asked, not taking his eyes off the pot of leg wax in case it suddenly launched itself into the air, covered his legs before tearing its self off again – it wasn't likely to happen but Lister wasn't leaving anything to chance

"Yes" said Rimmer, without so much as a flicker of sympathy in his voice "Now, back on the bed"

There was a full minute of contemplation before Lister edged his way back to his bunk, he slowly lay down, taking nice deep calming breathes that failed to pacify him. A fear induced sweat began to drip down his forehead as Kryten once again applied the wax and smoothed down the cloth. The mechanoid looked at Lister, as if awaiting starter's orders. Lister swallowed before giving an uncertain nod.

The cloth came tearing off at a nauseatingly fast speed, leaving nothing but stinging skin in its wake. The screams echoed around the bunk room louder than the annual Torturers Convention held in a cave with fantastic acoustics. Cat and Kryten winced and Rimmer laughed as Lister hurled himself off the bed, turning the air a rather fetching shade of deep blue with his advanced vocabulary of profanities.

Ranting over, he leant against the wall, shaking and sweating. He shook his head and desperately tried to breath, it was as if the pain had snatched away his ability to turn oxygen into carbon dioxide through a clever use of a respiration system.

"This is gonna be a long night" said Cat to Kryten, sounding anything but annoyed at this fact "I should have brought my camera!"


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Oh, 3 chapters updated in just 1 day! Yay!

Reviews and concrit welcome!

Whoot!

* * *

As the safe embrace of sleep gave way to the harsh reality of the waking world, Lister groaned, and decided that nightmare went straight to the top of his 'top 10 worst nightmares' list.

Bizarre and twisted images flashed in front of his pupils like some grotesque picture slideshow, and bit by bit, the horrors of last night revealed themselves.

Lister recalled hobbling from his bunkroom like a wounded gazelle and stumbling away from the others as fast as his stinging legs could carry him. There was no way in hell he was getting back on that bed. No chance!

What followed was a frantic chase around Starbug, with Rimmer shouting "You can run but you can't hide" and "You'll thank us for this later!" at random intervals. Lister eventually lost the hunt, and paid the price.

Being held down on a bed whilst enduring a leg wax was not an experience he was keen to repeat any time soon.

Groaning again, he sat up and began the process of getting out of bed. He tipped himself out of his bunk and straightened up. It took a few seconds for his sleep riddled brain to figure out what was wrong. Looking down, he saw his bedsheet sticking to legs like some Roman toga. Shaking his head in dismay, he managed to pull the sheet off, wincing as it irritated his already irritable skin.

Making a mental note to punch Rimmer, he headed off to get a shower, and for the second time in the space of 12 hours, Lister's voice box found itself screaming to the very best of its ability.

Rimmer raised his eyes to the ceiling before narrowing them. Was that a scream? He quickly dismissed it as there were mere pressing matters at hand. He re-read the complex agenda he'd written yesterday, making sure everything was present and correct. He only stopped his meticulous examination of his notes when a shadow fell across the page.

It was Kryten, and judging by the mechanoid's uneasy aura, something was troubling him. Rimmer gave him a long, cold stare before raising a single eyebrow up one notch. He wasn't willing to waste a perfectly good annoyed look on Kryten, when a mediocre one will suffice.

"Sir, I know you've got this all planned out….but are you perfectly sure this is all necessary? I mean the….the…" he cringed and flapped his cubed hands about before he could finally bring himself to speak "the waxing. Oh, poor Mr Lister. He'll never talk to me again…ohhh…the look on his little face. He looked like a freshly shaved puppy!"

Rimmer sighed and placed his clipboard and pen down on the table "Kryten. Save the dramatics for the Mechanoid Oscars. And yes, all this is necessary, and Lister will get over the whole wax thing, in fact" the hologram smiled "I bet he's already forgotten it"

"I hate you" came a strangled voice from the doorway.

Turning round, Rimmer saw Lister clinging to the doorframe for support, shooting him the visual equivalent of a death threat written in blood.

"Listy, how are you this fine morning?"

"I really really really really _really_ hate you!" he said, slowly shuffling his way towards the hologram, his death glare not wavering a single bit. Kryten gave a muffled sob before scurrying off to the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" asked Rimmer, taking in Lister's unnatural gait with an almost morbid interest

"I had a shower….and it hurt…it hurt like Hell. In fact, Hell's probably a lot less painful than that!" he winced, and gently touched his calf before cringing "Me legs feel like they're on fire!"

"You had a shower!" repeated Rimmer, sounding nearly horrified "I told you not to go near water for at least 15 hours after the wax!"

"No you didn't! You never told me nothin'!"

The hologram frowned till his eyebrows rested on the bridge of his nose, before recognition flooded his features "Ah, that's it. I meant to tell you. I just never got round to it!"

"Thanks a lot Rimmer, anything else you've regretted to tell me that I might class as being important?"

"I can't recall anything" said Rimmer amiably, turning his attention back to his, although technically Lister's, schedule. "We've got a big day ahead of us Listy" he said, "Lots to do!"

Lister gratefully accepted to the coffee Kryten had just offered him, before giving the hologram a worried look "Whatcha mean 'lots to do?'"

Rimmer sighed "Do you think we can just give you a leg wax, and that's it, you're a woman. Oh no Lister, this is going to be a very long, very difficult and a very painful process"

Lister didn't like the sound of this not one bit.

"It is my job" said Rimmer, throwing out his chest and strutting round the room "To turn you into a lady…and by lady I don't mean some slack jawed, saggy stomached, loud mouthed, breast flashing laddette who can down 4 pints and a kebab as quick as her older brothers….Oh no…I mean a lady of elegance…a woman of poise, of dignity…of….Lister, you're not even listening to me!"

And he wasn't. In fact he was spinning round on the swivel chair, gazing at the ceiling with a very bored expression on his face. The hologram sniffed disapprovingly, and glared at him "Lister. Stop being a prize pratt and pay attention to me!"

Lister sighed, dragged himself upright and stared at Rimmer "What?"

"I am going to turn you into a woman" he said "I'm going to teach you everything, how to walk, how to talk, how to eat, how to…do other womanly things…by the time I've finished you'll be unrecognizable!"

"Rimmer, I've only got to convince a bunch of upper class twats that I'm a lass…I'm not going in for Miss World or anything!" replied the human, "Chances are they'll be too inbred to see properly!"

"And you can cut that out for a start" snapped Rimmer, giving Lister his grade 3 annoyance look

"What?" said Lister, genuinely stumped as to what he'd done wrong

"Those smart comments….the insults. Real women – women of breeding and refinement – don't make comments like that, especially about rich, cultured eligible young men" continued the hologram,

'That's it' thought Lister 'he's lost it. Sanity gone out the window, down the road, over the hill and far far away!'

"So watch your tongue, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah" sighed Lister "Whatever you say, man!"

"And stop talking like that" replied Rimmer immediately.

Lister blinked "talkin' like what?"

"Scouse….stop talking scouse."

This was too much for Lister to even begin to understand. What the smeg was Rimmer talking about? "Mind if I ask why?"

The hologram rolled his eyes as if this whole conversation was far too tedious for someone of his advanced intellectual capability to endure and sighed in an 'I'm so hard done by' fashion. "Listy" he said, painfully slowly "I'm trying to turn you into a witty, charming, desirable and _cultured_ young lady….how the hell am I supposed to do that with you talking like the combination of the entire Bread cast and the Beatles…you can't be cultured and from Liverpool!"

Lister now had 'offended' to add his list of current emotions which included 'boredom' and 'confusion'. "You do know that Liverpool was voted 'city of culture' 2008!" he said bitterly,

Rimmer didn't care, and he felt he'd better share this with Lister "I don't care, fact is you are hardly the pinnacle of cultured-ness are you?" he left this sentence to hang in the tense atmosphere before coughing "Now we'd better press on, we've got lots of work to do. First lesson – how to sit"

Lister groaned and dragged a hand down his face. This had to be some form of horridly embarrassing, insane, whacked out dream brought on by stress….never in a million years would this ever happen in reality – Rimmer teaching him to become a woman so he can fool a bunch of aristocrats – it's so absurd it has to be a dream!

"Contrary to popular belief" came Rimmer's voice, slicing its way through Lister's thoughts like a hot knife through butter "It is not lady like to cross your legs as this causes the skirt to ride up the thigh and that's most definitely _not_ lady like. Instead you sit down" he sat down in the chair next to Lister "and tuck one ankle behind the other, clasp your hands and place them neatly on your lap" he demonstrated all this then smiled at Lister.

"Why didn't you just say you were gay!" said Lister

"I'm not!" cried Rimmer,

"Rimmer, what other straight men know how 'real women' are supposed to sit!" Lister paused "How d'you know this stuff anyway?" giving him an confused look

The hologram shifted about uncomfortably as a red tide of embarrassment flooded his cheeks "I picked up the odd thing or two from my mother….I'd rather not go into it"

Yet another reason why Rimmer's family were completely off their rockers, therefore explaining Rimmer's personality in a nutshell.

"Okay, now you try" said Rimmer, hastily turning to conversation away from his troubled and mentally scarring childhood.

Lister groaned once again and got the feeling this was going to be a very very long day!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Yello peeps! Now, it's no secret that I've been neglecting this story (among others) so I'm going to try and rectify this by updating. So here's a chapter.

A big thank you to all reviews, and especially robster72 and TheSummoningDark for their lovely, encouraging comments.

Thank yee all kindly!

Ta Ta for now!

Sunny

XXXX

* * *

"Now" said Rimmer, "I'm going to teach you how to walk…"

Lister raised an eyebrow "I've been doing that for quite a while now Rimmer, haven't you noticed?"

The hologram gave a smirk and withheld a sarcastic comment "Yes. But I'm going to teach you how to walk like a woman." He gestured to the floor space in front of him "Walk a couple of feet that way for me"

For a second or two Lister made no attempt at movement, instead he just stared at Rimmer with a blank, utterly hopeless looking expression plastered on his face. "In your own time" prompted Rimmer, waving a hand airily at the floor.

Sighing and feeling like a complete and utter idiot, Lister walked eight feet down to the other end of the room.

"Nope!" cried Rimmer, crossing his arms in frustration "That's appalling – you walk like a man!"

"Do I?" responded Lister in mock surprise "Well, I wonder why…could it possibly be due to the fact that I am a man!?!"

"Not for the next few weeks you're not" snapped Rimmer "Now kindly shut up and pay attention" he cleared his throat "To walk with dignity, grace and…feminity, you keep your shoulders back, you stand up tall. In fact, try not to walk….but to _float_!"

"Float?" repeated Lister,

"Yes. Float. Observe-" Rimmer then proceeded to sashay his way towards Lister, swaying his hips from side to side and wiggling his shoulders. He stopped and gave a smug smile. He was rather good at this 'being a woman' malarkey – not that it'd do him much good, it was Lister who was doing the gender swapping.

There was brief moment of awkward silence before Lister asked: "are you sure you're not gay?"

"No, I'm not!" snapped Rimmer,

"Well you sure act it…" mused Lister,

Rimmer performed an exaggerated eye roll "We're getting side tracked. Back to this walking business. Do you think you could do what I just did?"

"What? Act like a pratt? Probably. The question is do I want to?" said Lister, not bothering to disguise the venom in his voice. He was still insanely bitter about this whole charade and if Rimmer really wanted to turn him into woman, he was going to have a real fight on his hands.

"Lister. Could you please behave. Our lives are at stake here, and all you can do is pass snide comments and be stubborn and infuriating…" he paused "Oh my god, you're me."

"Oh no Rimmer. No matter how neurotic I get. Now matter how twisted or narcissistic or warped I get…I'll never ever ever _ever _be like you! And that's the reason why I sleep soundly at night!"

That harsh comment seemed to hang in the air like a guillotine blade. Rimmer fidgeted slightly, before clearing his throat "Want me to show you the walk again?"

Lister sighed "If you want…."

So he did. He waltzed his way back up the room, strutting like a sixteen year old beauty queen. He turned back to face Lister, who looked like he was torn between laughter and tears "see" Said Rimmer, in an attempt to engage Lister "It's sexy."

"That was about as sexy as tweed!" scoffed Cat as he slinked down the steps leading from the cockpit, clad in a silvery grey ensemble with a cream coloured shirt. He smirked, so his fangs peeked out beneath his lips.

"Could you do better?" sniped Rimmer.

This was perhaps one of the stupidest things Rimmer could have done in this situation. Cats are notorious for being sleek, supple and sexy – and this one was no different. The feline sapiens natural grace and mobility meant he practically slow danced his way down the room, looking like Sex personified (or, technically, Catified). He completed his sexy strut with a pirouette and a knee weakening grin.

"Not bad" sniffed Rimmer, knowing full well he'd just been put in his place "A bit elaborate…but not bad"

"Are you blind!" said Lister "That was amazing."

Cat's grin stretched even further across his face "Well, amazing _is_ my middle name. Along with 'sexy', 'stylish' and 'jaw droppingly gorgeous'!"

"How can you have a middle name?" said Rimmer, desperate to show Cat up in any way he could "You don't have a last name!"

Cat gave a small shrug "Details, details" he dismissed, gently tugging at his jacket to prevent the chances of creasing.

"Can't Cat be the woman instead? He'd be better at it" suggested Lister, desperate to be pardoned from Rimmer's insane, terminally moronic plan.

"No." said Rimmer firmly "Beside, we've already done the leg wax on you…seems a shame to waste it." He glanced at his watch "We'd better press on. Okay Listy, try and copy what Cat's just done"

Lister looked nervously at Cat "I can't do that" he said weakly.

"Course you can't" laughed the feline "If monkeys were meant to move like Cats they…. they would have…but they weren't…so they won't!" He smiled, as if this jumbled, grammatically confusing sentence made complete sense.

Rimmer took 4 seconds to give Cat a withering looking before turning his attention to Lister "Just give it a go. We're running out of time here."

Lister frowned in deep concentration and was just about to step forward when Rimmer spoke "Try to imagine a length of string, coming out of the top of your head and when you walk try to keep this string nice and taught."

It was as if someone had opened the floodgates to Lister's face, allowing a huge wave of confusion to swamp his features. Anything that had ever made sense to him suddenly didn't.

Where the smeg had this string come from?

"Well go on" urged Rimmer, moving his hands around in hasty circles in a bid to get the human moving.

Lister closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself with a piece of string sticking out of his head. It must be painful, have something in your head. And what was it attached too? The ceiling? In that case he shouldn't be able to move. Keep the sting night and taught? What a stupid idea – women don't have lengths of string stuck on their skulls.

He was so preoccupied with envisioning this string that his feet forgot how to walk. He stumbled forward in a drunken manner before attempting to mimic Cat's pirouette, which ended painfully with Lister on the floor.

"What the hell was that?" demanded Rimmer "That was the most unladylike thing I've seen since Ms Mimas bodybuilding competition!"

"I think I got tangled up in me imaginary string" explained Lister, clambering to his feet and brushing dust off his trousers (not that this made any difference at all to his dishevelled appearance).

"Lister you're going to have to try-"

"I am trying!" snapped Lister "It's not easy y'know and you're not exactly helpin' telling me to float and to keep my string straight – have you heard yourself Rimmer – you're talking complete and total smegging bollocks!"

"Well maybe if you paid a bit more attention it wouldn't sound like 'complete and total smegging bollocks'!" retorted Rimmer

"You do it then – you walk with a piece of string in your head, lets see how easy it is for you!" said Lister, storming up to Rimmer and glaring at him.

Sensing a forthcoming feud, Rimmer changed his tone and his approach "Okay" he said soothingly "Maybe I haven't been giving you the right advice. Let's try something else" He paused to check if Lister was listening to him "How did Kris used to walk?"

Lister blinked at the mention of his long dead ex girlfriend. He thought for a second and gathered together a couple of well chosen memories. A thin smile graced his lips "She had this sort of….wiggle. It was dead sexy."

"Do that then" said Cat

"I can't" said Lister feebly "I'll look stupid…"

"Just give it a go" said Rimmer "We won't laugh."

Lister however did laugh, "What no mockery with Arnold Rimmer in the same room? Fat chance!" Nonetheless, he stepped forward and closed his eyes. He imagined Kris walking. He recalled all those times he'd watched her stride off down the corridors, her beige uniform clinging to her perfectly rounded bottom.

He took a deep breathe and put his left foot forward. He had no idea about what he must have looked like; mimicking Kris's walk and part of him really didn't want to think about it. He paraded his way down to the other end of the room, his body swaying provocatively in a way it had never done before. He then stopped and turned to face the others, who stared back at him, speechless.

"What?" asked Lister uncertainly "Was I that bad?"

Rimmer, his mouth still agape shook his head "No" he said, once he regained the power of speech "That walk…" he searched for the right words "It screamed 'you can't afford me' – you walk like a gold-digger!"

Lister grinned "Seriously?"

"That was halfway towards being towards decent" said Cat, sounding rather put out by Lister's sudden show of slinky sexiness.

"Do it again" urged Rimmer, "We could be onto something here"

Lister sashayed his way towards a now overjoyed hologram and an ever so slightly jealous feline and flashed them a triumphant grin "well?" he asked,

Rimmer clasped his hands and smiled what appeared to be a genuine, sincere smile before saying "By George – I think she's got it!"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Hey hey!

Quick thanks to all readers and reviewers. Danke!

Reviews appreciated!

Ty!

Sunny  
XXXX

* * *

Time's always been a bit of a buggar.

Everyone knows of Father Time, guiding his charges through their humdrum activities with a gentle (if not slightly cold) hand. For Lister however, his allocated lot of time was not being cared after by the Father himself.

Oh No.

Somehow Mother Time, who was in a hurry with a million other things to be getting on with was dragging Lister's life kicking and screaming further and further towards the immediate future with little remorse or pity. In short – time was passing far too quickly.

Two of his precious seven days had already slid from his grasp, whipped by in a blur of wax, pain, embarrassment and confusion. Lister had five days left to get to grips with what took most young ladies several years to learn whilst also compensating for the drag factor of being a typical male. Not an easy task.

Rimmer however, armed with his 'Timetable of Doom' looked upon this deadline as a goal. It was something to be acknowledged and welcomed rather than feared. Lister of course, looked upon Rimmer as being a smeg head.

The morning of day three of his 'transformation' arrived too early for Lister's liking. Before he had time to wonder once again 'why oh why' he was doing this, he was sat in the midsection, pen in hand with some paper in front of him.

"You didn't tell me I had to do an exam!" said Lister, swivelling round to face Rimmer. He hadn't done an exam since he was sixteen, and even that was an art one so it didn't really count. "You should've let me know!"

"Why?" inquired Rimmer "Would you have revised?"

"No, I would've hid!"

"Fantastic revision technique Listy," smirked Rimmer "Truly top notch!" Secretly Rimmer was worried – he'd tried that approach to revision before and it hadn't worked. In fact, not only was he unprepared for the exam but he had a restraining order slapped on him for hiding in the laundry wagon of the women's gym. How was he supposed to know someone was going find him?

"Besides" he said "you're not doing an exam."

"Thank smeg for that" sighed Lister, feeling thoroughly relieved.

"You'll be taking notes instead"

The relieved feeling vanished immediately and was hastily replaced by temp, a lovely little emotion called Despair, who decided that things were going to change around here. First of all, there'd be none of this sat upright stuff! From now on in it'd be slouching - we're talking a moody, self-righteous teenage posture complete with a malevolent scowl. 'There' he thought 'That's much more like it!'

"Lister, get that look off your face" said Rimmer, crossing his arms in a bid to appear more in control than he actually was.

"Make me" replied Lister testily, not even bothering to grace the hologram with his scornful look anymore.

Rimmer's mouth twitched into a strained smile, his puny fists clenched together and his knuckles went white "Listy" he said, as nicely as possible given his temper "Please grow up a bit. This isn't school." He stopped "Are you chewing?"

"What am I taking notes on anyway?" asked Lister, carefully turning a piece of paper into an aeroplane,

"Your back-story" said Rimmer, snatching the plane from his fingers and crumpling it into a sorry looking lump of lined paper.

"But I already know my back story – I know all about meself. Why would I need to make notes on that?"

"Because" said Rimmer, "It's not _your_ back-story you'll be learning, it's hers." He caught the look on Lister's face – a true 'the lights are one but no-ones home' look. He was going to have to explain: "The female you"

"Ooh…" said Lister catching on.

Confident that Lister knew at least what Rimmer was going to talk about, he started to dictate the lady Lister's history, which went something like this.

"You were born into a wealth family – wealthy but not very fortunate in the good looks department which obviously explains why their daughter looks more like a man than most garage mechanics. At the age of five…."

Lister just stared. There was little else he could do. He was completely and utterly lost just lately, he felt as if someone had turned his life upside down, inside out and just to further befuddle him, stuck the French subtitles on. He was officially clueless. Rimmer meanwhile continued to ramble, "You then went to Oxford-"

"What's that?" asked Lister, jumping back into the conversation as Rimmer paused for a fraction of a second "A young offender's institute?"

"Ha ha, he he" said Rimmer in a dull, flat voice "Very funny. Oxford is a highly prestigious university, one of the old 'Red Bricks' – at least it was till that Cambridge lot sprayed obscenities all over the walls."

Lister was paying no attention to this. He was panicking. "Rimmer, it's no good giving me this long complicated back story, I'm gonna forget all the lies and then I'll be in deep smeg and then I'll get found out and then I'll probably be killed!"

"So what d'you suggest?" sneered Rimmer "I leave you to look like the slobby ladette from Liverpool? That's really going to impress them isn't it? They're upper class; they're used to the finer things in life! And here I am, promising them a lady when in actual fact they're gonna get you in a skirt!"

"Hey, I aint wearing a skirt for no-one man!"

"I'm not surprised, not with your legs."

Lister blinked at the sting that remark held "What's wrong with my legs?" he demanded, leaning sideways to look at the offending limps.

"Oh nothing to be really self conscious about" mused Rimmer, "But you know how most women are described as having the legs of a graceful gazelle" Lister nodded warily. "Well, the female you could be described as having the legs of an elderly hippo with fallen arches!"

"Thanks" said Lister bitterly "You really know all the lines don't you. It's no wonder you were beating women off with your sonic super mop, make a romantic remark like that and they'll be putty in your hands!"

It was at this point that Kryten's arrival into the midsection brought the pairs exchange of witty yet scathing quips to an abrupt halt. Whistling merrily, he set out the table with the best silver, salvaged from some long forgotten derelict.

"What's going on?" asked Lister, as Kryten leaned in front of him and neatly arranged an abundant array of cutlery around the table. With horror Lister counted the 7 knives, 7 forks and 3 spoons that sat in front of him "How much are you making me eat?!"

"Lesson 3" announced Rimmer "Correct etiquette when dining."

"Correct eckywhat?"

"It's important for a lady to know how to behave at the banquet table. Meal times are a perfect opportunity to associate oneself with rich, eligible bachelors-"

"You're trying to get me married, aren't you!" said Lister, picking up a fork and examining it with curiosity.

"Who's knows – perhaps you'd mature a bit and face up to some responsibility" sniffed the hologram "Now. We begin" he took a seat opposite Lister and pointed to the outermost fork "This is the salad fork"

Without a moments hesitation Lister picked up the fork and handed it back to Kryten "We won't be needing this one, Kryten."

"Put that back" snapped Rimmer "Stop messing about and pay attention-"

But Lister didn't, he instead decided to dwell on a topic that was becoming very tiresome for Rimmer "Are you absolutely, one hundred percent certain you're not gay?"

"Yes, I'm not gay" he said,

"I'm only asking 'cos there seems to be no end to your girly wisdom" said Lister casually, leaning back in his chair "I mean, is this just an elaborate way of coming out? Why don't you try something more subtle like prancing round the midsection wearing a pair of pink snakeskin pants and a feather boa whilst treating us all to a rousing chorus of 'Sing if you're glad to be gay!'"

There was a very long silence, to which Rimmer merely raised an eyebrow to.

"Just a thought…" muttered Lister "Carry on"

"With pleasure" lied Rimmer "To recap – salad fork" he gestured once again to the eating implement made of the finest Ionian steel "This one is for fish, the next one for white meat then the one for dark meat, that big ones for root vegetables and-

"And which fork do I use to stab you with?" interrupted Lister, waving a hand airily across the various cutlery

"Lister, it's considered incredibly rude in high society if, during a dinner party, you stand up and stab the host" said Rimmer "But if you do insist on doing so, you should always use the carving knife!"


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Ah ha! My little chickies! I'm here once more with my tale of terror (c'mon, Listy as a woman - that sure as hell aint a children's story). Once again I'd like to thanks all reviewers - you leave such lovely comments, it makes me want to sing with joy, so often I do and receive disapproving looks from those around me! So, for you guys: THANK YOU!

Here's a little chapter, well it's not little in fact, it's rather long to compensate for the lack of updates- I do hope you enjoy!

Have a great Easter!

Thankies!

Sunny

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* * *

Obviously, it was all well and good Rimmer teaching Lister how to behave like a woman, but when it came to looking like one, he was a couple of miles short of the desired destination. So that was where Cat stepped in: The God of gorgeous. The Daddy of design. The Saviour of style. If there was anybody who could get Listy looking feminine, it'd be Cat!

First up – a face pack.

As a general rule Cats were expected to use a cleansing, toning and moisturising face pack at least twice weekly. Good skin was a pivotal part of Cat culture.

"You're havin' a laugh" said Lister when he heard what was in store "A face pack! I drew the line at the leg wax!"

Rimmer blew two sharp burst of air out of his nostrils and rocked back and forth on his heels in an agitated manner "And you thought that would be where you're transformation ended. One quick leg wax and 'lo and behold' you're a girl!" he snorted "Dream on Listy – I did warn you this was going to be a long and difficult process – at this moment in time, mi'laddo you've got about as much class as a combination of the Spice Girls!"

"Is that including the posh one?"

His comment was ignored as Rimmer steamrollered ahead with his ruthless agenda "I'll give you an ultimatum-"

"What's that?" asked Lister warily "Not another painful beauty treatment?"

The hologram sighed "It's a choice: you can either do the face pack willingly or…" he paused, allowing the tension to mount "….we'll have a repeat of the other night, with you being held down." He smirked "Now, what's it to be?"

Lister of course opted to go with the first option and, begrudgingly, allowed Cat to do the face pack. He squirmed slightly as the cold, gritty mud like substance was smeared across his cheeks whilst Rimmer grinned like an elated female TV presenter on a shopping channel – all smiles but not a trace of compassion.

"There" said Cat stepping backwards and wiping the excess face pack from his fingers "That's a big improvement – you should cover your face up more often, it's a good look for you!"

"You should keep your mouth shut once in a while" retorted Lister "It's a good look for_ you_ and it might keep you alive a bit longer!" Knowing that macho comments weren't going to relieve the humiliating situation Lister groaned "I can't believe I'm doing this" he said before frowning slightly. He liked his lips and his frown deepened. "This tastes like mint" he said, pointing to the face pack

Cat glared at him "Wear it, don't eat it!" he snapped

"I'm not eatin' it" snapped Lister in return "some went in me mouth!"

"Do you have any idea the widths I've got to go to get hold of this stuff!" he hissed, crossing his arms across his chest and narrowing his brown eyes

"Firstly" said Rimmer, from the corner of the room where he was now hunched over the timetable "It's the _lengths _you've got to go – not width, you dim-witted, intellectually challenged, cranially curtailed feline! And secondly, I demand that you shut your fanged mouth this instant, because I've got about as much desire to learn about your pathetic excursions for beauty products as Listy has to take regular exercise!"

"Why do you always assume me and exercise are incompatible?" asked Lister suddenly,

Rimmer raised his head and smirked "Well, you're hardly dedicated to keeping fit are you? You and exercise are about as well-matched as a submarine and the Sahara…no better yet, a reality TV star and real work!"

Lister nodded out of amusement and grinned "I was on my school swimmin' team." he said simply, before sitting back and looking smug. The smirk was wiped off Rimmer's face as easily as dirt is washed off a car, his facial muscles twitched with confusion and his eyebrows went shooting up to have a quick cuddle with his hairline.

"You?" he said, sounding as incredulous as you can get "_You_ were on your school _swimming_ team? God, they must have been desperate!"

"I was actually really good."

"At what? Impersonating 'Free Willy'?". Oddly enough, only Rimmer laughed at this remark. Lister merely sighed and turned away, Cat just looked confused. There was a brief pause before Rimmer returned once again with another bold statement – a thought that had just occurred to him "You did it to meet girls didn't you?"

Lister looked offended "No! I did it because it's a good, noble sport. It was a healthy activity and it got me off the streets, kept me outta trouble…" Rimmer was close to being convinced until he added, "Of course, there was the fact that swimming practice was at the same time as the girls synchronised swimming practice…"

"I knew it" sighed Rimmer "I bloody well knew it!"

"There's something oddly appealing about girls in bikinis doing scissor kicks in formation…can't think why though" said Lister, his face acquiring a wistful expression as he reminisced.

Rimmer rolled his eyes and took an opportunity to seize the moral low ground (he aimed for the high ground, but it was a bit out of his reach) "you're so predictable! So what happened in the end? With the swimming?"

"And what happened with the girls?" asked Cat, eager for details.

"Have a guess!" replied Lister with a roguish grin

Rimmer made a whiney noise and flapped his hands at Cat "I asked my question first!" he squeaked angrily before turning back to Lister to receive his answer.

"I gave it up in the end" replied Lister, wandering over to the sink to wash the face pack off his face which had been turning rock hard as the conversation had progressed. "It was a shame, my coach said if they hadn't changed the girls practice night from Monday to Thursday, I could have made it to the Olympics!"

At this point Kryten came striding into the bunkroom, in his cubed hands he carried a fairly large cardboard box. Lister backed further away; his experiences over the past few days had taught him to be wary of everything Kryten brought into the room: leg wax, tweezers, James Last albums – all were potentially deadly.

"Ah Kryten. Wonderful" said Rimmer, advancing towards the mechanoid, rubbing his hands together like some gruesome parody of Fagan from _Oliver._

Lister nervously looked towards Cat, who could only give a small, equally confused shrug in return. Eventually curiosity and morbid interest got the better of the human and he was forced to enquire: "wassat?"

Rimmer appeared to ignore Lister's question whilst he rummaged excitedly through the box like a slightly manic Womble. Just as Lister was about to repeat his question, the hologram straightened up and smirked in a way that often persuades people to punch him. Between his slim fingers he held something black and lacy. "This" he said in little more than a whisper "is your breasts."

He tossed the bra over to Lister who expertly caught it, sending the part of his brain that controls his libido (not Libya, that's a country – the two are often mixed up) into overdrive because of course, having a bra thrown at you suggests that the situation is going to get very sexy and fun! Things got a bit muddled though; there was a conflict of thoughts. The brain pondered for a second or two about how (and why) Rimmer was a part of this sexy situation – it decided that, in all probability, Rimmer throwing lingerie at Lister was obviously the result of a drunken night out gone wrong and therefore, it'd be best not to think about it.

Cat meanwhile, had scurried over to get a closer look at the underwear "Wow!" he said, gazing at the object as it held the meaning of life itself (although - for some men – it technically does) "Women actually wear these?" he asked pointing to the bra

"Well, not if you're lucky" replied Lister as he too began to examine the bra in great detail (it had been quite some time since he'd seen one). It was rather nice, one of those ones with hidden gel pads to add extra 'oomph' to cleavage. It'd make Lister a B-cup at best. "They're not very big are they…" he said, trying not to let his disappointment become evident in his voice.

Rimmer tutted in utter disgusts "5 minutes as a woman and you already hate the way you look!"

"I'm not complainin'!" said Lister, although he actually was. "It's just…well. This is my only chance to be a woman so…so, y'know, I might as well…go the whole hog if you get what I mean."

"No Lister, I hardly ever get what you mean. You make about as much sense as a VCR manual written by the terminally baffled!"

"Fine then" snapped Lister, taking his bra and throwing himself down onto his bunk in a sulk "Forget what I just said!"

"Already have done." sniggered Rimmer

"Sir" said Kryten, finally salvaging enough to courage to speak. He hated being the bearer of bad news, and when the bad news was destined for Rimmer, he hated it even more "I've just received a message from Mr Gregory Samuel Douglas Watson Smyth and-"

"From _who_?" interrupted Lister "Is that his name – smeg, its absurd!"

"It's not absurd. It's the type of name people with the right roots, the right upbringing, the right…everything have. A good honourable name" by this point Rimmer had puffed out his chest and his eyes had acquired a sort of devoted glaze "Like we can expect _you_ to know any better" he sniffed "given your background. I mean, you can't get a more common name than Lister can you?"

"Oh I dunno…I could be called Rimmer!"

The hologram deflated, his nostrils made one final stretch for his ears and his cheeks became flushed with aggression but before he could vent his frustrations Kryten leapt in with a comment that made them all panic "Sir. It's Gregory Samuel Douglas Watson Smyth – he wants to speak with our female, right now!"


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Howdy folks.

Firsty - a big thank you to: radarrox, robster72 and The Summoning Dark and all those 'lurkers' who dwell in the shadows. Danke!

Secondly - sorry about the excessive length of this chapter - I got a bit carried away...

Thank again!

Sunny

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* * *

Rimmer was the first to arrive in the cockpit; he stumbled through the doors, arms flailing before crashing into the console at an astonishing speed, just in time to hear Gregory Samuel Douglas Watson Smyth drawl "I'm getting impatient…" 

'And obnoxious' thought Rimmer, as he tried to gather together some element of composure. He coughed before settling himself down at the microphone "Gregory!" he exclaimed as cheerfully as he could "So sorry we kept you waiting, we were all awa-"

Gregory's cold, razor sharp voice sliced through Rimmer's sentence, sending a shiver down the holograms back "Mr Rimmer-" he said, with all the warmth and compassion of a morgue table "I haven't time to discuss the trivialities of your existence. I'm calling to confirm some details."

"Oh" replied Rimmer, turning to face the others who had just scrambled into the room. Lister was wearing a look that's usually worn by rabbits caught in the oncoming path of a combine harvester – unbridled horror and dread - a danger you're fully aware of, but you can't for the life of you escape it. In fact, he looked like he was on the verge of terror induced tears.

"Is erm…." Gregory hesitated for a second before lowering his voice "is she there….your _lovely_ young lady?"

"No" replied Rimmer quickly, glancing at Lister who had now taken to gnawing at his nails "She's….she's in the shower, washing her hair" he forced a laugh "you know what girls are like."

Through the microphone, there came the sound of leather squeaking, presumably (hopefully) as Gregory shifted around in his chair. A nervous air surrounded every word he spoke, as if the situation was proving to be particularly awkward. "So-" he said, doing his best to sound casual and failing quite spectacularly "What's-what she like then….I mean, what does she look like? Describe her to me!"

"Describe her…" repeated Rimmer, "Well, erm – hmmm" he spun around and stared hard at Lister, biting his lip as he frantically searched for the right kind of euphemisms "Well, she's got….brown hair"

"Whoa, steady with the details, Rimmer" muttered Lister,

After stopping to scowl, the hologram continued, trying his very best to make the Lady Lister sound attractive "She's got brown eyes. Erm – rather short…full figured."

It was Lister's turn to scowl "what?!" he mouthed angrily before storming out the room, but keeping close the doors so he could hear the conversation.

"Look" said Rimmer eventually "I can't really do her justice – she's very very very pretty in an…..unusual kind of way, I'm sure you're going to love her" a note of desperation crept into his voice "I hope to God you do!"

Gregory chuckled "We are eagerly awaiting her arrival Mr Rimmer, it's been quite some time since we last fraternised with a _woman _– we're all, how would you say…..out of touch with females. She should be a breath of fresh air to an otherwise stale survival"

Rimmer smiled and sat back in his chair, confident that the whole 'passing Listy off as a girl' was going to be easier than he first thought. After all, if they're desperate they won't be too fussy about the looks will they?

"By they way, Mr Rimmer, what is her name?"

Buggar.

That was the next thing on the agenda – coming up with a name. "Her name…." said Rimmer, beads of computer simulated sweat dripping down his creased brow "well, we….call each other by our last names here, so she's just called Lister."

"Lister – nice" repeated Gregory, allowing the name to roll around his tongue like a sweet "And her first name?"

Rimmer froze. He swivelled round to meet Kryten and Cats expectant gazes and gave a whimper. His brain was like a blank piece of paper – simple, unspoilt and no help at all in a crisis. He needed a name and fast. "Her first name, it's…..it's-" he whirled his hand around in circles, as if he was trying to turn the rusty cogs inside his head. He clamped his free hand across the mouth of the microphone "Help me!" he hissed at the pair "Think of something!"

Kryten twitched and wringed his hands "Susan?" he said

"Ethel?" said Cat, shrugging his shoulders

"_Ethel_!" squeaked Rimmer "What planet are you on?"

"Mr Rimmer" came the muffled voice of Gregory oozing between the gaps of his fingers "I'm waiting."

"Her n-name-" he stammered, grasping onto the edge of the console for fear of falling away from it "Her name….is….". A muse suddenly took pity on Rimmer, an idea began to flash before his eyes and he was soon awash with relief "Davina." he said happily, even adding a little hint of a sexy 'purr' to his voice.

"Davina…" said Kryten and Cat, exchanging cynical looks

"Davina?" muttered Lister, closing his eyes in a mixture of horror and shame

It was now Gregory's turn "Davina" he said, "Davina Lister – my my" he crooned "What a lovely name!"

"A lovely name for a lovely woman" beamed Rimmer, giving Lister a wave to which the human responded with the two fingered salute and a malevolent scowl.

"Give her my kindest regards and we shall be seeing you in three days time."

"We can hardly wait" lied Rimmer

"Toodle oohh!" cried Gregory, sounding a damn sight more cheerful than he had done at the start of the conversation

"Toodle oohh!" responded Rimmer, before switching off the microphone and feeling exceptionally pleased with himself. That, even if he did say so himself, was handled brilliantly. 'We're sorted' he thought.

Lister obviously didn't feel the same way "We're dead." he announced gravely, leaning against the door frame, his breathing fast, erratic and panicky "We are so dead!"

"Oh, ye of little faith" scoffed Rimmer as he strode past him into the midsection "You heard him, they love you already – imagine what they'll be like when they see you!"

"Oh yeah" laughed Lister "I can imagine – sincerely smegged off is what they'll be Rimmer – they'll smeggin' kill me and it'll be all your smeggin' fault!"

"Mind your language" snapped Rimmer "Ladies do not swear!"

But he was ignored, Lister was too busy panicking and pacing around the midsection "Why are we doing this again? This – this is….insane! suicidal! We're screwed! Completely screwed" suddenly his tone changed, he rounded on Rimmer and clenched his fists "And Davina! What planet are _you_ on Rimmer – Davina smegging Lister – I sound like I should be stood on a street corner with no knickers on! You said you were gonna turn me into a woman, not a tramp!"

Rimmer shuffled where he stood in a hurt manner "It's a colourful name I'll give you that, but I didn't exactly see you leaping in with any great suggestions!"

"That's 'cos I was too busy having a heart attack!" wailed Lister, throwing up his hands in frustration and fear "We're screwed" he said again

"Breathe sir" ordered Kryten, rushing over and taking his master by the shoulders and depositing in a nearby chair "You must breathe sir, it's a necessity."

"Well I'm not gonna be doing it for very long so I'd better enjoy it!" said Lister sourly, before dropping his head onto the table and whimpering.

"Oh stop being a pessimist" said Rimmer, folding his arms across his chest and sneering

He'd barely finished speaking before Lister was back on his feet and pacing the room "I'm being a realist Rimmer, there's a big difference. What we're doing – correction. What _I'm_ doing is stupid! Men aren't the brightest species ever, I know that and I also know that our observation skills are well, frankly crap but Men know a real woman when they see one, and there is no way in hell we are ever going to get away with this! They'll rumble us the second they set eyes on me!" By now his anger had given way to utter hopelessness, he groaned, collapsed into a chair and held his head in his hands.

"Listy – you know I don't often give compliments" said Rimmer after a polite pause "But…you're not half bad at being a girl. I mean, I'm sure that when you've got all the hair and the make up and the boobs on, you'll feel much more feminine, I mean-"

"Why am I doing this again?" asked Lister suddenly,

Rimmer sighed "So we don't all die, we've been over this."

"No" came the blunt reply "Why am _I_ doing this?"

The hologram hesitated before he hazarded a guess at the answer Lister wanted to hear "because we decided you'd be best for the job."

Lister gave a small snigger and stared at the hologram with a pair of cold, unfriendly eyes "_you_ should have done it. You're a hologram, we could have just easily altered your image – made you look like a woman. Simple – and you already know how to walk, how to talk and all that other crap!"

Rimmer tried to put a sincere smile on his face and backed slowly away. He knew where this was going and it wasn't going to be pretty.

"It would have been far far _far_ easier for you to become the woman and you knew that but you kept your big mouth shut and let me go through all the torture, all the humiliation, all the agony! You no good, weasely, lying, slimy toe-rag!" Lister lunged at Rimmer, his arms outstretched ready to ring the little gits neck, but Kryten and Cat held him back.

"I forgot I was able to alter my image!" lied Rimmer, scurrying to the other side of the room "I honestly did – and besides, you're a much better woman than I could ever be!"

"Flattery will get you no where Rimmer, not with the mood I'm in!"

"Well, we can't very well change it now can we?" he replied, back pressed against the wall and quivering from the knees up "They all think you're the woman, so you're just going to have to go along with it now aren't you…"

Realising that once again, Rimmer's statements contained some limited amount of common sense, Lister admitted defeat. He pulled away from Kryten and Cats grip and made to walk out of the midsection, presumably to go and sulk in his room. He may have done it too, had Rimmer not decided to chip in with:

"Listy – while we're on the subject, d'you reckon you could do something about your voice, it's just you sound a bit butch!"

The human stopped for a fraction of a second before spinning round and crossing the floor towards Rimmer, once again Kryten and Cat attempted to prevent any fisticuffs by holding him back, but Cat seemed to be encouraging a fight rather than discouraging by shouting "aim for the face, bud!"

Oddly enough, Lister didn't hit Rimmer. Instead, he stopped dead in his tracks no more than a few short centimetres away from his bunkmate and stared for what seemed like an eternity. Indeed, so long was the pause that Rimmer was forced to raise an eyebrow as way of motivating Lister to continue.

"One of these days…" said Lister, a small, 'all knowing' smirk "I'm gonna get you. I'm gonna make you pay and by the end" he stopped and leaned closer still "you'll be begging for mercy." Leaving his threat to hang in the air like a blanket of dense smoke he took his leave, only to have Rimmer, who has yet to learn the intricacies of avoiding an argument, shout after him "Listy – would you mind having your ears pierced?"

Lister said nothing and let his raised middle finger do all the talking.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Okay, I'm sorry for the distinct lack of updates, but exams are taking priority at the moment. I had this lurking around in my documents folder, I edited it up and ta da! Here we are – Listy as a woman.

I should stress at this point that readers of a nervous disposition may want to abandon ship now – it's gonna get freaky…

Reviews welcomed! Many thanks to: Radarrox, The Summoning Dark and robster72 for being such loyal readers/reviewers!

Also, thanks to The Summoning Dark, for pestering me to get something posted! Cheers!

P.s - here's 2 chapters to make up for lack of updates!

Sunny  
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* * *

Lister wanted to die.

If the Grim Reaper had turned up at that precise moment, proclaiming how his time was spent, Lister would have gladly patted Him on the back and promised to buy the first round when they get to 'the other side'. As it happens, the notorious cloaked scythe carrier did not appear, so Lister was stuck in his own idea of hell.

The last three days had somehow disappeared, hurled into that deep, dark dustbin of Time like the rotting remnants of yesterday's rubbish, leaving Lister with just a 24 hour period between him and the most humiliating event ever to grace the universes - followed almost certainly by a no doubt _painful_ death.

So it was fairly easy to see why Lister was praying for some divine (or not so divine) intervention, to swoop down and end the madness. But sods law, all deities – holy, magical, mythical, spiritual and phoney – were unavailable at the present moment, leaving him to fester in his misery.

Naturally, his loathing of everything (especially Rimmer and his warped mind) only intensified as he stood in his bunk room, clad in a pair of women's jeans, a slinky black top and jacket, not to mention a pair of lacy knickers and a 'wonderbra' - both of which weren't half as comfortable as he'd been led to believe. Kryten was adding the finishing touches to his hair and make up, flashing him reassuring smiles at random intervals and whistling merrily.

"Kryten…." asked Lister

"Yes sir" replied the mechanoid

"Where the smeg did we get all these women's clothes from?"

Kryten smiled "Oddly enough sir, we found them in one of the supply rooms…." He chuckled "it's rather funny isn't it, we've barely got enough food but we've got a whole wardrobe of stylish women's clothing that's in your size."

"Yeah" agreed Lister sourly, "Very funny!"

Kryten took a step backwards, cocked his head slightly to the left and surveyed his human master through the narrowed eyes of a critic demanding nothing short of perfection. He smiled and set down his make up brush with the contented flurry of a satisfied artist. "I think we're done sir, you can look now."

Lister shook his head, sending his newly aqquired (and obviously fake) curls bouncing in all directions. "No, I don't wanna look."

Kryten looked disappointed "Sir, don't you want to see how lovely you are!"

"No."

The mechanoid attempted to steer Lister towards the mirror but the human snapped his eyes shut. Inside his head he began screaming for himself to wake up, to stop having this awful nightmare and to get back to nice, normal reality where he didn't have to be a woman.

"Sir" came Kryten's voice, half pleading and half scolding.

"Don't even bother Kryten" replied Lister, keeping his eyes firmly shut "I'm not looking in that mirror for anythin', okay? In fact, I'm not even opening my eyes!" he paused for a second before adding "Ever" as an afterthought.

The mechanoid sighed in a frustrated manner. If there was one thing he hated it was good work not being appreciated. "Sir" he gently pulled Lister away from the mirror "Please, look at me a moment"

Lulled into a comforting sense of security by Kryten's voice, he sighed and gently eased open his eyes "what?"

Kryten gave an evil grin (well, as evil as a mechanoid with a restrictive behaviour protocols could get) and pushed Lister back in front of the mirror, so he was staring his reflection in the face, with no means of escape.

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped. Words failed him. Kryten hovered closely behind, watching Lister watch himself in the mirror. A very long silence occurred, followed by a fairly substantial pause and then there was a period where nobody spoke.

Lister was shocked….and he was ashamed to admit it was good kind of shocked. 'A surprise birthday party' type of shock rather than 'oh my god, I've just cut my hand off' shock. He actually looked like a woman….and not a half bad looking woman either…in fact, as far as 'men dressed as women' went; he looked kind of…_hot_.

A smile somehow gained access to his lips, and he gave a small laugh "I look quite cute" he said, admiring his reflection up and down. Then reality came and slapped him round the face – he was guy - a guy wearing woman's clothes and actually enjoying it!

"What the hell am I saying!" he groaned, tearing himself away from the mirror "I look like a pratt, there is no way those guys are ever gonna believe I'm a woman. We're as good as dead" he flopped down onto the bed and groaned again.

"I think you look very pretty sir" smiled Kryten "In fact sir...I'd go as far as to say, if I was human – I'd 'do' you!" Pleased at his perfect demonstration of colloquial language, he grinned and awaited a response.

"Thanks" said Lister "I think…" he chewed nervously on his bottom lip as a thousands and one thoughts raced around his head, tumbling over each other, competing for 'brain time'. "Do you really think we can pull this off Krytes?" he asked suddenly, his newly painted eyes gazing at his metal friend expectantly.

"Yes sir" replied Kryten with a smile that looked 110 per cent genuine "I'm completely confident _you_ can pull this off!"

A look of doubt must still have been blatantly evident on Lister's features as it caused Kryten to comment, as casually as possible "When I was back on the Nova 5, I served 8 women and I think sir, I can honestly say not one of them was as attractive as you are now."

Lister blinked in utter surprise before giving a small laugh, an interesting combination of embarrassment and disbelief "Yeah right…." He dismissed

"No sir, I mean it. Not one of them could hold a candle to you – not a torch, a match, a lighter or indeed any kind of lighting implement." His plastic grinned stretched across his face "I think what I'm trying to say sir, is that you're a bit of a babe!"

Somewhere deep inside of Lister a tiny flicker of confidence was transformed in a raging inferno. All doubts were cast aside and suddenly, he felt as though he could accomplish anything – even waltzing onto a ship inhabited solely by males and convince them all that he was in fact, a she!

Trying to sound nonchalant Lister raised an eyebrow "Seriously?"

"As serious as a very strict librarian sir" said Kryten,

That was all the confirmation Lister needed, with compliments like that still floating about in the air, he stood up, flicked his hair back and strode forward, ready to show Rimmer exactly how good Davina Lister was!


	13. Chapter 13

"Rimmer?"

The hologram looked up at the mention of his name but was surprised to find the midsection empty. He frowned and wondered if his mind was finally waving that white flag of defeat and giving up on staying sane. He wouldn't be surprised.

"Rimmer?" came the voice again, slightly louder this time and with a distinctive scouse twang.

"Where the hell are you?" snapped Rimmer

"Outside."

"I take it you don't mean outside in space…" he said, placing his book down on the table and rising to his feet

"Outside the room ya div!" retorted Lister

"What's wrong? why are you out there?"

There was a pause – "I'm kinda worried about how I look"

Rimmer's nostrils flared angrily and his eyes spun round in circles "Why should that start bothering you now?" he asked snidely

"I'm meant to be a woman though…"

A groan dragged itself upward from the soles of Rimmer's boots as despair began to weave its way through his veins, taking it to very tips of his fingers. Resisting the urge to weep openly and loudly, he buried his head in his hands as if to stop his mounting despair leaking out through his ears, nose and mouth. Eventually, he'd mustered enough fortitude to ask weakly "what's wrong?" before bracing himself for the worse.

What he saw made his jaw practically unhinge itself before it took a long awaited sky diving trip floorwards.

Lister was leaving against the door frame (at least he thought it was Lister) – a wonderfully feminine vision of loveliness. Curves (albeit false) in all the right places, a enticingly playful expression on his face.

He looked like the sort of woman that would not only hate Rimmer, but also simply ignore him.

"I'm just too sexy" said Lister casually, "I mean, d'you think they can handle a woman like me after years and years of only having male companionship?"

Rimmer was still desperately lost for words, even as Lister smirked and sashayed past him into the kitchen he found himself as mute as a newsreader when the autocue fails. It took several minutes for his brain to give his voice box a nudge in the right direction but unfortunately the results were not impressive

"Frahhggh mecky ckkkgsh" slurred Rimmer, shock still affecting the most basic of tasks.

"Y'what?" asked Lister, returning from the kitchen, holding a can of wicked strength lager.

Rimmer coughed and tried to speak once more, thankfully it worked this time "You look….not bad"

Lister looked disappointed "You never bring yourself to compliment me, can you?" 'Not bad' was a huge step down from 'Babe' in anyone's books,

"You look great. Better than great. Great squared! Cubed even!" in the excitement Rimmer was forgetting his principles, he'd just complemented Lister 4 times in quick succession – what was happening to him? "You look gorgeous!"

"Steady on mate" replied Lister, feeling slightly awkward "No need to go overboard"

"Yes" coughed Rimmer, pretending to adjust his uniform so he could avoid any eye contact, before quickly changing the topic "So you think we're gonna get away with this then?"

Lister laughed "Think? I know so!"

His confidence must have been infectious as Rimmer instantly began to get the feeling that his plan and indeed Lister were infallible! Nothing could possibly go wrong now!

His reverie was interrupted by Cat sliding his way into the midsection, a vibrant explosion of pink satin and sequins. He grinned before striding his way down the corridor. Seconds later, he was back, pressing closely against Lister and smiling all the more "Hiiiiiiiiiiiii" he crooned, taking hold of Lister's hand.

Rimmer managed to fight back the urge to snigger – Cat obviously had no idea that the lovely little lady he was cuddling up to was in fact 'the monkey' he'd known and lived with for years.

Allowing his brown eyes to travel up and down Lister's frame, pausing to rest on the parts he liked best Cat purred"and what's your name?"

Lister smiled in return "Lister…" he said simply,

Cat froze, unwound himself from around the human's waist and fixed his eyes firmly on the floor. "If anyone wants me" he muttered, scurrying towards the door "I'll be having a cold shower."

Lister and Rimmer exchanged smirks and seconds later Cat called back "You look great by the way!"

"Thanks!" Lister yelled in return. He turned to Rimmer "When are they getting' here?"

"They're sending a pod around noon tomorrow. I spoke with Gregory whatshisface a while ago, he finalised all the arrangements." Rimmer paused "We're really gonna pull this off aren't we?"

"Easily" said Lister, "but I have got one issue though" sitting himself down at the table,

"What?" asked Rimmer, taking the seat opposite.

"Why the smeg did we go to all the trouble of waxing my legs if you were just gonna put me in a pair of smegging jeans!? It's the same as chopping off all your fingers and then buying a pair of gloves!"

Rimmer waved this trivial comment away "We're going for the casual look – relax" he smirked "we'll get you dressed up later on!"

"And what are you? My stylist?" said Lister, leaning forwards and fixing Rimmer with a hard stare "Have I somehow been entered into 'Queer eye for the straight guy' without knowing it?"

The holograms nostrils made one final stretch towards his ears "I am not gay! When are you going to let that joke go?"

Lister shrugged "Whenever I run out of material…"

"and when will that be?" demanded Rimmer, so he could write the date down in his diary and organise a party – Hammond Organ Music and all!

"I've got a couple of decades worth yet" reassured Lister, looking interestingly calm and relaxed given his current state of dress "don't worry!"

Rimmer simply frowned and stalked away in a huff, leaving Lister alone to think about the task that loomed before him. Before too long doubt began to take root and before the evening was over, big flowers of anguish and despair were blooming.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Hello Folks. I apologise for the sparce amount of updates recently, but as many of you will know the past few weeks were exams and naturally I had to give those little buggars my full attention. I'm free now and my fingers were twitchin' to get typin'! I'm really starting to worry myself with this story, no doubt I'm worrying the rest of you also.

Many thanks to:

of you will know the past few weeks were exams and naturally I had to give those little buggars my full attention. I'm free now and my fingers were twitchin' to get typin'! I'm really starting to worry myself with this story; no doubt I'm worrying the rest of you also.

Many thanks to: Robster72, TheSummoningDark, Radar-rox, Rally Collins, drookit duck, and 30obelow for all their reviews so far. I'm sure there is other people I need to thank but my stupid internet has randomly installed a parental control feature and its decided that page 2 of my reviews page contains 'adult material' – I wonder where it came from?

Thanks once again to all readers and reviewers. Enjoy!

Sunny  
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The gold gilded door of the pod sent from the S.S Centurion glided open with a hiss softer than a viper sighing in its sleep. Its interior was so ostentatiously decorated, it would have sent Louis-Llewellyn Bowen weak at the knees: everything from the handcrafted, diamond encrusted chandelier to the chaise lounge stuffed with Dodo feathers and accessorised by silk scatter cushions boasted a lifestyle where everything was done to the excess – a luxury few could afford but many could dream of.

Immediately having stepped into the lavishly decorated pod Lister began to feel smothered by its deliberate decadence. Growing up as working class in one of the harshest cities in the universe had given him an irrational fear of anything that was gold coloured, smothered in jewels and plastered in the more attractive remnants of some animal, now long extinct. The door buttons carved from ivory was enough to convince Lister that _now_ was the time to go.

Truth be told, the past few hours alone had been enough to convince him that there was no shame in running away. Perhaps for once Rimmer's patented escape plan –Logically Excellent Getaway Intact Theory, (L.E.G.I.T for short) – was the best option. Having spent the spent a majority of the morning working himself up into such a frenzy, a part of his brain had been assigned the job of coaxing him back into breathing regularly, otherwise he would've keeled over and died of 'acute panic', Lister was now fully convinced that right here, right now 'doing a Rimmer' was okay by anyone's standards.

Just before the doors slid closed Lister dived back into Starbug's side of the airlock, he clung to a nearby girder for support and protection as Rimmer came storming after him "I assume there must be a reason for what you're doing?" he asked snidely,

Lister tried to give the impression that he was calm, cool and collected when in actual fact he was wracked in anxiety, being slowly torn apart by terror and practically prostate with panic. "I thought I'd stay here a bit…" he waved a shaky hand around the room, presumably to represent the whole of Starbug and not just the airlock "Woman the fort so to speak…."

"There's little room for females in the military, Listy" said Rimmer, adopting his conventional chastising stance: arms behind the back, head held high, wearing a smile that could set babies off wailing "Now, if you'd kindly get your backside into the pod, we'll get going."

Lister shook his head stubbornly "No" he said firmly and simply, clutching the girder for dear life.

By this time Kryten and Cat, wondering about the delay, had joined Rimmer just in time to hear him enquire nasally: "you're nervous, aren't you?"

Seconds ticked by as Lister struggled to come up with an answer that both avoided the question and explained his reasons for not wanting to set foot in that pod, "I've been thinking…"

"Oh God…" moaned Rimmer, covering his eyes and grimacing like he'd just digested something nasty "This is why people like you shouldn't think – brains are dangerous in individuals like yourself! When people like you get thinking, revolutions happen: law and order disintegrates, governments topple, societies crumble – anarchy, frivolity and unruliness reign!"

"That sounds like fun!" piped up Cat,

"Fun?" repeated Rimmer, part incredulous, part horrified "Fun! Tell that to Nicholas the Second, the last Tsar of Russia."

"I'm sure Mr Cat would indeed carry out your suggestion sir" said Kryten helpfully "if Nicholas the Second was not dead and buried on earth, which is still some 3 million years away."

"Shut up" muttered Rimmer before diverting his attention back to Lister "Look, David-" The mere mention of his first name coming from the holograms lips was enough to make Lister want to cry – Rimmer seldom used first names, he reserved them for when the situation was, or was going to become particularly unpleasant. "I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do…"

Lister's grip on the girder slackened "you…you're not?" he asked cautiously

An evil smirk: "don't be stupid – of course I am. Grab him!"

Kryten and Cat, probably acting on earlier orders from Rimmer, grabbed hold of Lister and dragged him bodily into the pod and held him down till it was safely drifting through space, away from Starbug and towards the S.S Centurion.

"You bastards" yelled Lister, pointlessly pummelling the pod door in frustration "You can't do this to me, this is a violation of my human rights!"

Rimmer snorted "You've got to _be _human to have those rights, Listy"

Quicker than a kitchen cleanup at the unexpected arrival of the Health Inspector, Lister spun round, ready to pummel Rimmer's face rather than the door, only to be held back by Kryten.

"Please try to calm down" sighed Rimmer, sitting down on the chaise lounge and examining his hands with a 'sophisticated' expression on his face "It's hardly ladylike to start picking fights with people now is it?"

Realising that Lister was loosing this particular fight, he changed tactics – random acts of violence and aggression were a suitable outlet for his fury but in terms of getting him out of this mess, they were useless. He collapsed next to Rimmer and tried tactic number one: Pleading.

"Rimmer, please please please don't make me do this – I'm beggin' ya man, please please please…please?"

"Listy, this has to be done. You know the score, it's this or we'll all being trying on halos and wings in no time"

"Like _you'd_ go upward" muttered Cat

Wasting no time Lister moved swiftly on to tactic two: Bribery "Let me go and I'll give you anything you want" he lowered his voice and leaned towards Rimmer "_Anything…_"

The hologram smirked a smirk that was a slippery as an eel in a bath of baby oil – "you have nothing I want" he said simply, enjoying this spectacle of desperation from Lister.

This refusal left the human with his third and final tactic, if this didn't work then he was well and truly screwed. Tactic three: the last floatation device in the midst of a storm – Blackmail

"Either you call this stupid plan off now and we go home….or I make it my mission to spread it across the universe that you offered Hollister your body in return for a promotion…"

Kryten's features slid into each other with horror and disgust, while Cat retched slightly. Rimmer's eyes widened, he gave a strained smile and mouthed the words 'not true' at the pair, a blatant lie obviously!

Lister was just about to extend his threat of public humiliation when the pod gave a small jolt; the green docking light began to glow in an eerie and no doubt expensive manner as the doors slid open to reveal of section of similarly spectacularly decorated corridor. Rimmer stood up and motioned for Lister to leave and upon his refusal to do so, a further motion made Kryten and Cat once again manhandle (although now technically womanhandle) Lister out of the pod.

As he was frogmarched down a stretch of corridor he squirmed, struggled, kicked, wriggled and generally made Kryten and Cats tasks as difficult as possible. Lister's resistance only intensified as he heard the sound of people approaching, their clear cut, upper class accents reverberating off the walls, tastefully papered with a French striped affair.

Seconds later both parties met face to face, a sandy haired man in his late twenties strode forward, his hand extended in greeting "Gregory Samuel Douglas Watson Smyth" he announced proudly,

"Charmed" said Rimmer, shaking the proffered hand "Arnold Jonathon Rimmer."

Behind Gregory stood a small group of young men, all wearing the same expectant expression on their faces. How could Rimmer possibly deprive them of what they were waiting for any longer?

"And here" he said, a tad too dramatically for everyone's liking "is our lovely little lady, Davina Lister" he grabbed Lister by the wrist and flung him forwards. The human was by now too petrified to put up any kind of a tussle so he simply allowed himself to be hauled in front of the gaggle of gentlemen.

The longest second in the history of time took place – it stretched on for what felt like a thousands ice ages with an exceptionally tedious lecture at the end of it. All eyes were upon Lister who was currently praying for an asteroid to collide with the ship so he could escape this excruciating experience.

In the end it was Gregory who broke the silence, his voice plunging the temperature of the situation into sub-zero temperatures "Mr Rimmer" he said, fixing the hologram with one of the surliest looks he'd ever witnessed (and Rimmer had seen plenty) "You are quite the exceptional liar…"


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Howdy! The more eagle eyed readers will notice that a majority of this chapter is irrelevant to…well…anything! I just got a bit carried away with back stories and well, at least you can't accuse me of not giving you all the facts!

Once again thanks to: Pam-Pam-Kitten, robster72, Radar-rox, L J Groundwater and E. Nagrom for taking the time to review the ramblings of an obsessive teenager with an under active social life.

Enjoy…even if it is weird!

Sunny

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Lister's worst nightmare had come true (and we're not talking the one where you're doing your French written exam naked), they'd been rumbled within seconds of stepping onto the ship. He stumbled backwards, brain busy on the formation of an escape plan whilst Cat and Kryten exchanged worried looks before fervently insisting that 'it was all Rimmer's idea'. Rimmer however could merely blink in what looked like mild surprise, as if he'd heard but didn't quite fully understand what had been said. 

Just as the quartet were about to flee for their lives, Gregory smiled and laughed a tinkling laugh that sounded like a tuning fork tapped against a champagne glass "You told us, Mr Rimmer that this Miss Divina was lovely…I beg to differ, she's stunningly gorgeous!"

Lister's jaw dropped.

That couldn't have just happened, it must have been a hallucination brought on by fear or something. But it had happened and what's more it had happened in reality (if you could call David Lister dressed up as a woman to con a bunch of aristocrats so they could get Starbug fixed reality).

Another young man stepped forward, squinting at Lister as he rummaged around in his jacket pocket "Let's have a look then" he fished out a pair of expensive looking spectacles and gave them all an apologetic look "I do apologise but I'm so inbred I can't see properly"

Lister gave Rimmer a fleeting 'told you so' look as the semi-blind man eyed him up and down before turning to Gregory and announcing, as if he they were totally alone "She's a bit of alright isn't she?"

This expression of contentment regarding the quality of the female Rimmer had given them provided the perfect icebreaker; suddenly Lister was surrounded by the group of men, each one eager to introduce themselves. Like Gregory their names were ludicrously long and no doubt highly respectable in certain circles.

"Jeremy Maxwell Colchester the Third" said a dark haired young man in a set of polo clothes, smiling at Lister charmingly only to be shoved out of the way by a tall, gangly fellow who introduced himself as "Henry Howard Harrington Horton".

It felt so worryingly surreal that Lister lost track of what was going on, he was only vaguely aware of someone called Isaac Jerome Victor Fleming talking about a tour and failed to notice that he was being gently guided down the corridor but his new found admirers.

The décor remained excessively lavish throughout the ship, its interior mimicking that of an expensive cruise ship, very much like the Titanic Mark 2, which regrettably met the same sticky end as its predecessor – naturally, this makes for an amusing and intriguing tale. Following advances in technology all cruise ships were fitted with sophisticated Iceberg Detection Equipment which, when detecting an iceberg, would alert the Captain and initiate a change of course in order to avoid disaster. Upon the Titanic Mark 2's maiden voyage to New York across the significantly warmer Atlantic Ocean (Globing Warming, it's a real bitch), the ship forced to change course when a small, sorry looking lump of ice that would struggle to get a job floating in a glass of water got in it's way. Everyone was greatly impressed by the avoidance of a near-death experience and proceeded to get utterly legless. The problem was that no-body remembered to correct the ships course and it crashed into the Statue of Liberty, which from that day forth became known as the Leaning Lady of Liberty.

Having had his fill of admiring the décor, Rimmer turned his attentions to impressing the crew of the S.S Centurion, in the hope that they in turn would admire him. First, he planned to dazzle them with his witty conversation "So, tell me Gregory" he paused and beamed at the host "Or can I call you Greg?"

"No you can't."

"Okay, Gregory it is…"

The individual in question smiled politely and placed a hand on Rimmer's shoulder "Rimmer" he said "Please, just call me sir."

Lister, Kryten and Cat – as well as a few other people – struggled not to smirk as Rimmer nodded reluctantly "Very well….sir". He could foresee the respect he'd cultivated from this group evaporating into thin air, in the manner that things that can evaporate tend to do. To rectify this he slipped into the broadest Ionian accent possible. If those boys wanted nobility then by God, he'd give it them!

"Tell me then sir, how did you end up in deep space? I'm curious."

Gregory blinked in confusion "You're porous?" he asked uncertainly,

"No" said Rimmer, his accent slipping "I said I'm curious…"

"Oh" said Gregory, sounding somewhat relieved "That makes a lot more sense." He cleared his throat, a sure sign that a story was coming up "Well, it's rather a long story."

"Do tell us" urged Rimmer, much to everyone's disappointment and annoyance (especially as a majority of the people in the room were well aware of how they'd arrived some 3 million years in deep space, thank you very much!)

"Very well. In the year 2440-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa" interrupted Cat, holding up his hands and shaking his head "If you'd said this was going to go prehis…preehas…prehysteri…prohes-"

"Prehistoric, sir" offered Kryten helpfully,

Cat frowned and decided there wasn't a dog in Hells chance he was ever going to pronounce that word "going to go very _old_ then I would've slipped out for a meal, a make up repair and a make out session with my mirror!"

"You don't have to listen" said Henry

"Yes" said Isaac coolly "I mean, you don't have to be here."

Cat shrugged "I'm here now – just think yourself lucky that I aint charging you for appearance fees or somethin'" and with that he curled himself up on a Mahogany coffee table, produced a fish supper from an inside pocket and began to comb his eyebrows.

The group looked towards the Dwarfers, in hope of a half plausible explanation for this strange behaviour. "He's a Cat Man" said Lister simply, throwing an apologetic shrug in for good measure

"Indeed…" drawled Gregory before continuing onwards both verbally and physically "Now, where was I?"

"You were over _there_ till you moved to there" said Cat, waving at the floor with his eyebrow comb "Personally, I would have stayed where you were, because then you're closer to me – which is great for you!"

Ignoring this further interruption Gregory carried on with the story "As I was saying, in the year 2440 scientists finally found the cure, if you will, for death. The famed 'elixir of life'."

Even though this development occurred long after Lister had gone into stasis he knew all about it, back on earth in his time it had caused a media frenzy (and who could blame them after only having the antics in the Big Brother house to report on). It was impossible to _not_ know about it.

"It was subsequently banned; people felt it was too much interference in the 'natural order' of things. Of course, money is the answer to any problem, even one as controversial as this one."

"You see" said Jeremy "We're all pals from College and our parents are among some of the richest and most powerful people in existance and they pulled a few strings and well, we do so like it when things go our way." he said, before snorting an irritatingly, high pitched giggle.

Lister found himself starting to get annoyed. His distain of Upper-Class choice in furnishings extended to the Upper-Class themselves, the deciders of said furnishings. This group of men, Toffs by Lister's standards, were so stereotypically Upper-class that it seemed unnatural – one was dressed from head to toe in Tweed for Smegs sake. The attitude to accompany this look was just one more thing getting on Lister's pecks at this point in time.

"They simply bought the formula for the elixir of life, hired a crack team of scientists to make it and served it in a champagne flute to us that very evening-" interjected Henry, folding his long arms behind his back "Money certainly does make the world go around."

"Funny" said Lister sourly "I was always told it was something to do with gravity."

Rimmer coughed and nudged him in the ribs, allowing Henry to carry on talking "Once we were 'immortal' we went around the world, because we had literally all the time we could possibly need. Later, we got given this space ship and we explored the solar system, the galaxy and now we're making our way around the universe, seeing the sights!"

"That seems like a profitable use of your time." said Lister, his voice still dripping with such bitterness it seemed to curdle the air around him.

"Doesn't it!" beamed Gregory, completely oblivious to the sarcasm, "We've seen everything from the Shimmering moons on Sheritton 7 to-"

Whilst Gregory and the others recalled all the things they'd seen and the places they'd been, Rimmer grabbed the opportunity to have a quiet word with Lister, literally.

"Rimmer, you're hurtin' me arm"

"Just be lucky it's not your neck I'm ringing!" muttered the hologram under his breath "Just _what_ do you think you're doing?"

"Giving my opinion, that's what!" hissed Lister in return "Got a problem with it?"

"No but if you want to do so in the future could you make your opinion a little more…'toff friendly'? Just so you're not offending our hosts with every passing comment!"

"But then it wouldn't be my opinion…"

"Exactly!" cried Rimmer

"What was that Rimmer?" asked Gregory, turning around to face him, eyebrows raised.

"Oh…erm…nothing. It's just Davina was saying she's a little tired and she might like a lie down!"

Lister crossed his arms and glared at Rimmer, but said nothing. In actual fact he was looking for an excuse to ditch the group of inbreds – he'd had enough interaction with Toffery to last him a lifetime and he'd only been here fifteen minutes.

"I'll have a lie down with her!" said Henry, winking theatrically and setting off a chorus of Cat calls from his crew members,

"In your dreams" said Lister, feeling quite sick with the thought.

"You bet we'll be!" grinned Henry, effectively shattering the image of the 'perfect well educated, well mannered gentleman' that is so often attributed to this social group.

Rimmer laughed loudly and falsely before stepping between the pair, the last thing he needed right now was Lister handling his first sexual advance by a member of the same sex with violence – best to let him settle in first. "Well, isn't that lovely, lets go Davina, we'll go find you a couch to have a sit down on."

Just as Rimmer was leading Lister away Cat came sprinting down the corridor, his eyes wide and hopeful and his smile doubly so "Did I just hear some lady Cats?"


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: I'm sorry once more for the gaps between updates but life's been hectic lately, what with overtime, driving tests and whatnot my story writing time has been curtailed somewhat! I've made this chapter extra long to try and make up for it.

Many thanks to: robster72, TheSummoningDark, Radar-rox, E.Nogrom and L J Groundwater.

**Disclaimer** – Red Dwarf is not mine, neither is The 3 Laws of Robotics.

* * *

Still in a state of semi-reluctance to accept the successful nature of this situation, with regards to _not_ being found out and consequently killed, Lister found himself being taken to his room. Gregory had somehow, presumably with a bit of negotiation and more than a few firm words, convinced his associates to give Davina 'some space', which also provided the host with some time to make an impression on his guests.

Unbeknownst to him, a pretty firm impression had already been made and it was anything but positive. So much so, that Lister was considering whether he could justify hiding somewhere until Starbug was fixed, purely to avoid the present company.

"Here are your quarters" said Gregory, throwing open a set of double doors leading to an area so vast, it would have easily dwarfed Starbug's Storage Deck, which occupied the entire lower level of the ship, before laughing mercilessly at it. Like the countless other rooms that had been seen before it, this one was similarly decorated and furnished "I think you'll find it rather satisfactory."

He turned to smile at Lister, hoping to encourage some form of response, but in the end Rimmer was forced to prompt an appropriate reply out of him, namely by nudging him and frowning.

"Oh, erm" said Lister, still feeling more out of sorts than usual "It's…its very nice."

"Thank you" said Gregory, secretly disheartened by the lady's use of such a lame adjective. "We will of course provide you with a mechanoid maid; it will be Brassica's objective to make your stay as enjoyable as possible."

As if on cue, a female mechanoid ducked into the room – her silver eyes respectfully lowered and with a humble expression taking priority on her mechanical features. Built wearing a shiny maids outfit, various cleaning implements and substances attached to her waist, it was evident that she was designed and programmed, much like Kryten, to be the perfect domestic servant.

Another hot flash of anger caused Lister to clench his fists once more and he said, with more venom than originally intended "I don't need a maid; I'm fine."

Gregory looked towards Kryten and nodded "Yes, I did note that you had brought your own mechanoid."

"Kryten isn't a servant" said Lister coldly, "He's part of the crew. He's my friend."

An awkward silence dropped into the situation which everyone spent several seconds trying to escape from.

"How…novel." said Gregory, shuffling slightly in the discomforting circumstances before trying to steer the conversation towards more favourable, less risky waters "We have several mechanoids on board, all of which will be more than delighted to assist you in whatever way they can – Brassica, perhaps you could show Kryten to the mech quarters, so he knows where everything is."

"Yes Master" replied Brassica, bowing so low that the crown of her silver cap brushed the carpet; she straightened and smiled warmly at her fellow mechanoid as she led him from the room.

"I'll erm, leave you to get settled in" said Gregory, backing from the room, looking thoroughly relieved to be leaving (for now at least). "Mr Rimmer, your room is just next door, I trust you can find it. Dinner is served at seven, but you'll hear the gong anyway…Cheerio!" he gave a nervous smile and left, sincerely hoping his new female guest would be more courteous after a meal.

Lister waited till he was sure Gregory was a good distance down the corridor "Can you believe we're getting away with this?"

Rimmer glowered silently, his eyes and lips were dangerously thin, his hair was curling up in rage and he was clenching his fists so hard his finger nails had been sucked into his bloodstream.

"What?" demanded Lister, turning away and wandering around his new room, grateful for the excuse to not look at Rimmer's angry stance.

The hologram was unable to maintain his angry silence for much longer, not when there was some ranting to be done "You know damn well what!" he snapped, flailing his arms through the air like a wobbling windmill "Alright, you may have won them over with your looks but when it comes to your personality you're utterly repulsive!"

Lister shrugged casually "Maybe I'll become a glamour model…"

"This is serious, Listy" continued Rimmer "You're on thin ice already and what do you do? Well, you bent down and held a blow torch to it, that's what! We're in the hands of fate here and you're determined to tempt it - for Gods sake for once in your life can't you just _behave_!" he stopped his tirade and groaned "Its just…just be careful okay, you're supposed to be refined, educated, sensitive – not arguing the toss with Gregory on every point he makes!"

"Rimmer, the points he makes are so…pompous!"

"So? While we're on this ship you should be treating his views like the Gospel! Or, to use a comparison you'll understand – A curry cookbook - The point is, we need to get you on their good side and-"

"And to do that I need to be a brainless, compromising bimbo – all 'yes sir, no sir, whatever you say sir'" said Lister bitterly, opening a door and peering into the room behind it "Brutal – it's an en suite!"

"Will you pay attention! You need to be…" the hologram searched for the right word "submissive."

"Submissive?" repeated Lister, crossing his arms and looking offended "So you want me to be at those Mens beck and call, never arguing with them, agreeing with everything they say and not speaking me mind – you just want me to sit there with me trap shut, looking pretty!"

Rimmer covered his eyes with his palm and gave a heartfelt groan "Listy, now is not the best time to become a feminist!"

Lister said nothing in his defence, preferring instead to flop down on the king sized, four poster bed and sulk into the pillows. Realising that conversation from this point on would be impossible whilst Lister was in this mood, Rimmer took his leave "I'll be next door if you need me" he shouted over his shoulder,

"I won't!" yelled Lister in return, his voice muffled by the folds of the pillows. Minutes later he heard the doors swing open and he presumed it was his least favourite hologram, back for some more nagging. "Smeg off will ya'!" He snapped, bouncing into a sitting position so he was facing the door.

Brassica blinked in mild surprise, on one hand she balanced a collection of fresh towels, on the other a silver tea tray.

"Sorry" said Lister sheepishly "I thought you were Rimmer…"

The female mechanoid nodded in acknowledgement and forgiveness before depositing the tea tray on the table and the towels in the bathroom. "Is there anything I can assist you with sir?" she asked as she arranged a vase of the flowers on the sideboard.

Lister shook his head "Nah, I'm goo-" He froze. His stomach tingled with fear and within seconds his entire body was similarly affected: his mouth became parched, his ears rung with the relentless beating of his own panic stricken heart and his sweat glands promised to start doing some overtime. "…You just called me sir…"

Brassica nodded.

"I'm a woman" said Lister hoping his words alone would be enough to convince her

"Excuse me" said the fem-mech, with the same tone and level of polite formality normally favored by receptionists at the Ritz Hotel "but your proportions are entirely inappropriate for any ordinary woman."

Lister frowned – oddly enough in this worrying situation; he still found the time to be mildly offended "Some people might like these proportions on a woman!"

"Quite possibly" replied Brassica "But I think you'll find a majority of men prefer their women to _not_ have male genitalia."

"…Point taken."

"Kryten briefly explained the origins of your predicament." She explained, floating around the room cleaning, straightening, dusting and polishing as she went "He detailed the events leading to your current guise."

Lister felt even worse now, he scrambled off the bed, hands clasped as if in prayer "you're….you're not going to tell the others, are you?" he asked, his voice laden with a tone of desperation not too dissimilar to the one most teenage boys acquire when asking a girl out to the 'Big Dance'.

Brassica refrained from cleaning long enough to smile "To reveal the true nature of your gender would certainly put you in mortal peril, such actions on my part would be a direct violation of the first Law of Robotics."

"The what of what?"

"Issac Asimov's Laws of Robotics – it expressly forbids one robot to cause harm to a human by intention, negligence or inactivity. The exposure of the truth would most probably result in your death" Brassica paused to grin, cheeky to within 2 points of an unacceptable facial feature for her specifications "my programming, Mr. Lister, simply won't allow!"

The human thought about this "Hang on" he said, after several seconds consideration "Kryten's caused harm to me loads of times, he did it just the other day. He waxed my legs – as far as causing harm goes, that ones up there with the biggies like murder, mutilation and force feeding someone marmite!"

"Firstly, although my experiences and consequent opinions of marmite are limited given my mechanical stature, it is not a formal and certified method of torture."

"It should be…" muttered Lister

"Secondly" continued Brassica "Kryten's behavior _is_ a violation of Robot Law number one however, his actions are justified in that by causing you minimal pain-"

Lister gave a harsh laugh – the pain of leg waxing was about as minimal as the Atlantic Ocean was dry or as truthful as saying John Prescott was a competent and level headed politician with the body of a Greek Adonis.

"-he saved you from further, prolonged, excruciating pain – which you would no doubt experience if you were to be discovered."

"So he was hurtin' me to help me?" said Lister, uncertainly

"That seems like an appropriation description of the situation you shared with Kryten in relation to the willful implementation of pain."

"A 'yeah' would have done…"

"Apologies sir, my eloquence drive has been operating at maximum capability in recent decades – perhaps, for your benefit, you would prefer me to adjust to a more colloquial tenor and lexis?"

"Nah" said Lister, still not thoroughly comfortable with giving orders "You do what you like"

"Very well sir. I shall repeat my previous enquiry, your answer to which I am still waiting to process - Is there anything I can assist you with?"

Lister groaned. This was how Kryten was back in the early days – wholly self-less, always looking for a way to be of service, buzzing with the eagerness to perform any task whatsoever, no matter how degrading, demoralizing or deplorable. Rimmer had adored the mechanoid's obedient nature but it made Lister uncomfortable and he felt no different now "Listen, Brassica - I'm my own man okay, I don't need a maid – Thanks but there's really no need for you to be here!"

For a second, Lister could have sworn the mech looked disappointed, her smiled waned and she idly plucked at the feathers on her duster as if to disguise this random, unauthorized show of emotion "Comments recognized sir. I'll discharge myself from your obligation….but I do insist that you must not hesitate to ask me if there is anything I can do to assist you, in any way." She made to walk out of the room but stopped short of the door "….there was one other contributing factor in my decision to maintaining this pretense of yours."

Lister frowned warily "What was it?"

"Quite simply sir, I like you."

"You hardly know me" said Lister, though secretly touched nonetheless "We met barely ten minutes ago!"

"Officially it was 14 minutes, 32 seconds ago and my CPU noted a 98.7 per cent affection and compatibility ratio – far higher than the percentages recorded for the rest of my masters." Her stainless steel lips twitched into a shy smile, making the light from the low hanging chandelier bounce off in all directions, like a herd of rubber balls "I feel compelled to praise you on the way you defended Kryten – you are perhaps the first human I have met who treats mechanoids as equals rather than as inferiors."

Lister suddenly felt a connection with this figure of oddly feminine stainless steel, whose entire purpose revolved solely around cleaning – a bond that just may be strong enough to get him through this alive "Brassica" he said, just as she touched the door handle "Maybe I don't need a maid but…I kinda need a girl friend."

Placing a slender hand (its fingers fitted with numerous time saving domestic devices) on her chest plate, the mechanoid gasped "Surely sir" she said, her vocal units sounding thoroughly horrified "You should remain faithful to your own….species"

"No" said Lister quickly "I didn't mean girlfriend, I meant…a friend, a female friend. I'm supposed to be a woman but that's really hard when you're a man, trust me. I just, I need a mate y'know!"

Brassica sighed "Ah, I comprehend now! You wish to share companionship with an individual who is a female, a relationship which will remain purely plutonic but still strictly supportive." She nodded proudly

"Y'know that eloquence chip you mentioned" said Lister

"Yes-"

"…can you turn it off?"


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** I've been a bad writer folks, I'll be the first to admit. I'm not the type to make excuses but I've been so busy lately and whenever I did find time to write, I'd open the word document, start at it for an hour and cry – my fountain of creativity was dry. But today, I struck gold. It's not the best thing I've ever written but I needed something down so I could move the story on.

Many many thanks to: The Summoning Dark, L J Groundwater, E. Nagrom, Radar-rox, Insontis Exitium and Uric The Oddball (who's review actually made to sit down and write) – I'm very much grateful for all your lovely words:D

Take care now

Sunny

XXX

* * *

Lister was the last one to arrive in the dining hall that evening. He'd decided that for once in his life he'd be sensible – Brassica would surely be able to give him some pointers on how to behave now he was a woman, whilst also letting slip how he could get on the right side of his hosts.

At least that was the plan.

What actually happened was that Brassica and Lister ended up discussing the more spiteful, infuriating and downright intolerable characteristics of their relative companions, with Lister's rant about Rimmer lasting a little longer than planned.

It was only when one of the service mechanoids sounded the dinner gong, its rumbling chime echoing its way eerily around the cavernous rooms of the S.S Centurion, that Brassica remembered that Lister was expected, if not required to attend dinner.

"You'll need to change for dinner" she explained hastily, ushering Lister off the bed where they'd been sat for the past few hours before gently tugging the bed covers straight, till its surface was even enough for a spirit level to perch on without any bother at all.

"Change?" repeated Lister, sounding and looking horrified "change to what?" Rimmer had never mentioned metamorphosis at meal times – the upper classes were stranger than Lister had first thought.

"It's customary for guests to change into more formal attire for dining."

"What?" he said, voice wobbling "You're kiddin'!" Lister stole a glance at his outfit – the slinky top and jeans - as far as he was concerned this was as formal as he was going to get. He wasn't comfortable in formal wear; suits (ironically) just didn't suit him. "What the smeg am I gonna wear?"

Unfortunately, Lister was completely unaware that he'd just reached his first milestone as a woman – a potentially fatal wardrobe crisis of the first degree.

Brassica however was completely undeterred by her masters' panic "I'm sure we can sort something out…"

15 minutes later, he found himself being ferried downstairs by Brassica, who hissed last minutes instructions, none of which he could later recall. "There" she said, coming to an abrupt halt before a set of doors "Good luck"

"Brassica" he yelled, just before she ran off "Which ones the salad fork again?"

She smiled "You won't need it. They're not having a salad tonight!"

Lister closed his eyes in delicious relief "Thank smeg for that" he murmured. He was sure that to leave an entire course untouched was bad manners, even more so than using the wrong fork to eat it with.

Extending a clammy hand towards the door handle, he froze, milliseconds later his entire body was stiff and unresponsive, as if acute rigor mortis had just claimed it for its own. He could picture the scene now: the locks would click as he pressed down on the handle, the doors would swing open into another bewildering, unfamiliar and practically alien world. Every set of eyes would be locked onto him and him alone, tracing and scrutinising his every move until he finally found his way to his seat.

Lister couldn't handle that much attention in one go, especially not when he was pretending to be someone else, a woman at that. He withdrew his hand from the door handle as if it was aflame and stumbled backwards, desperate to put distance between him and the door.

Barely three backwards strides into his escape Lister collided with something. Spinning round he found himself looking up into the face of yet another one of the S.S Centurian's gentleman, his hand clasping onto Lister's arms in profuse apology. Feeling that his actions alone were not substantial enough, he said "I'm very sorry. I – I didn't see you there"

The man looked at the eldest twenty five. His blonde hair hung in careless disarray over his eyes, which he nervously pushed back into place with the heel of his hand. He towered over Lister quite easily at a height of six foot four, which further increased as he began to bounce on the balls of his feet, very much like Rimmer, as if to dispel the uneasy atmosphere.

"Did…did you get lost?" he asked, after what seemed like several ages spent staring at Lister. He gestured to the door ahead with a brief nod.

"No" said Lister, rather quietly "I found it okay, it's just…goin' in…bit of a problem…" he trailed off, allowing his unfinished sentence to drift towards the floor like a lone feather.

"Ah" said the gentleman "Yes, I understand. Would you like me to take you down?"

Lister's head snapped up to stare him in the face "Excuse me!" he demanded, his voice rising in indignation "What kind of girl d'you take me for Mister!" This was more of an order than a question "I don't even know your name for smegs sake!"

The man backed away hastily "It's an old phrase" he explained, subconsciously raising his arms ready to defend himself "It – it means to take a lady into dinner, to escort her into the room….that's all!"

"Oh" said Lister feebly. So much for Rimmer's master class on Upper Class Culture "Sorry…" He muttered, "Bit nervous, y'know."

The blonde nodded warily "Would you like me to escort you in?" offering his arm to Lister "So you don't have to go in there alone?"

"Yeah…cheers"

Smiling from ear to ear, the blonde extended his arm, which Lister took with only a minimal amount of hesitance, "I'm Michael by the way" the young man explained as they strode towards the doors of the dining room.

"I'm...Davina" said Lister, inwardly cringing at the name Rimmer had bestowed upon him

"I know" said Michael "Let's just say the news of your arrival has caused quite a stir among my colleagues, it's been some time since we last fraternised with anyone of the female persuasion..." had Lister been paying attention, he would have noticed that Michaels cheeks flushed slightly as he spoke, he coughed and flung open the doors.

It was just how Lister had imagined it would be, the crew were already seated at the table, engaging in various pockets of conversation which slowly dwindled as the pair entered the room. Some smiled warmly at Davina, others just gave that rather pathetic longing look as Lister dropped gratefully into the seat next to Rimmer.

"what took you so long?" hissed the hologram out of the corner of his mouth.

"My hair wouldn't go right" snapped Lister in return, a total lie but then again he wasn't going to tell Rimmer that he'd spent the last few hours moaning about how much he was hated by...well, everyone "what did I miss?"

"Nothing much" yawned Cat who sat on Lister's left "They've been talking about Bonds for a bit"

Lister frowned "James Bond?"

Rimmer scoffed "Insurance Bonds"

"I woulda preferred the first conversation, at least then I'd have known what they were goin' on about...what the smeg is an Insurance Bond anyway?"

"Listy please, everyone knows what an Insurance Bond is" sniffed Rimmer, toying with his salad, he'd tried to casually explain to the Mechanoid Waiter that, being a hologram, he had no need for food but in the end he kept his mouth shut. His previous experiences involving high brow situations and food had left him a little worse for wear, so much so that he wondered if he would ever get over the ghastly Gazpacho Soup incident.

"Oh yeah?" sniggered Lister, ignoring his food completely and who could blame it when it looked some the aftermath of bloodbath moulded into the shape of a cube with some green confetti sprinkled on the top "so what are they then?"

Rimmer's mouth twitched in a nervous fashion "Well..." he squeaked "They're er...obviously ...bonds of...insurance. I'd give you a much more detailed description but I hardly think you'd understand it."

"That's good 'cos I'm not sure you'd understand it either"

At that point another Mechanoid Waiter appeared by Lister's side "Would Madame care for a glass of wine?" it asked in it's usual hushed tones, hands clasped.

"Er...yeah...okay" said Lister, feeling wholly awkward at being addressed as 'Madame'.

"Would kind would Madame prefer?"

"Wet and alcoholic if it's all the same to you mate..." he said hastily, as Rimmer groaned into his napkin the Mechanoid gave a polite nod and scurried back to the kitchens

"Would it kill you to act with a bit more decorum?" snapped Rimmer,

"Would it kill you to not act like a git?" retorted Lister, who by this point had taken to poking his food with his fork

Rimmer began to go red, he sniffed angrily and hissed under his breath, just loud enough for Lister to hear "Number one: I do not act like a git and number two: I'm already dead!"

Before Lister could come back with another comment (or more likely, an insult) Geoffrey voice rang across the table "Miss Davina, I hope you are enjoying your stay with us"

An unnatural silence descended upon the situation, heads swivelled to look in Lister's direction, all awaiting his answer "...yeah...it's nice..." he replied, hoping his face would not betray him and show just how scared he really was.

"Tell us about yourself" said Isaac, leaning back in his chair whilst a mechanoid refilled his glass, a rather pompous look plastered on his features,

Perspiration began a mass breakout Lister's forehead, his mind went squeaky clean – everything Rimmer had taught him and suddenly 'upped and gone' leaving him with no other option but to blag his way through the conversation "Not much to tell really..." he said, trying to sound casual

"Are you related to the Listers of Dione?"

"No...the erm...Lister's of Liverpool-"he nodded, hoping and praying everyone would go back to ignoring him but by now the questions were coming thick and fast.

"Is is nice in Liverpool?" asked Michael,

Lister relaxed slightly, at least now he knew what he was talking about "oh yeah" he said honestly, as Rimmer next to him snorted with laughter. A short sharp kick to the shin soon shut him up "I loved it, never left it until I had to."

"Isn't Liverpool a bit...rough though?" enquired Henry

Lister laughed "Yeah if you're a wuss!"

Everyone in the room sat up a bit straighter, a murmur of intrigue rippled around the men, Lister quickly realised that was the wrong thing to say, he made to run but Rimmer stopped him dead in his tracks simply by saying: "I think you'll agree gentleman that Davina here has a wonderful sense of humour!" and the tension instantly vanished.

Lister breathed a sigh of relief and listened as Rimmer, for the first and perhaps only time in his life, saved the day "Obviously, she was joking about the wuss comment. I know that as of yet, she's not proved herself to be _quiet, respectable and polite _young I know her to be but rest assured, she's just a little shy – aren't you Davina?" Rimmer looked towards Lister, his eyes wide, a cue to agree quickly.

Lister nodded "Yeah...shy..."

"She is in fact a delicate, sensitive, cultured little lady. So wonderfully poised, graceful and refined that I sometimes wonder if she can in fact, be human, so close she is to perfection!"

Rimmer's words, no matter how heartfelt they were delivered could cover up the reappearance of the Mechanoid who had offered Lister a drink, who had announced, just loud enough for everyone to hear "Your drink Madame, wet and alcoholic, just like you asked!"


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N**: Again, another chapter where I don't seem to do much in terms of plot development. Apologies, hopefully the next chapter should get things moving! Also, I'm sorry for the lack of updates - busy, busy busy!

A huge, thank you to: Radarox, E. Nagrom, The SummoningDark, fallenfromgrace17, kellyofsmeg, L J Groundwater and to Avorsum, who said such lovely things about my rambles!

Hope you all enjoy, now on with the show!

**Sunny**  
XXXX

* * *

Lister was struck with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as Rimmer shook him awake the next morning, he'd been here before just a few days earlier and since then things had gone distinctly downhill.

"Come on" snapped the hologram, "Get up" before reiterating the point by adding "Now!"

Quite rightfully, Lister groaned and buried himself deeper under the covers "leave me alone!"

"We've got work to do, so get your good for nothing backside out of there right now!"

"Rimmer, will you smeg off!" snapped Lister, sitting upright but still clutching a pillow round his head "This is the first time in five years I've slept in bed that _doesn't_ have one side of it bolted to a steel wall, so cut me some slack eh?"

"No, that's precisely what I'm _not _going to do because look where it got me last night!" he frowned "I left you alone to your own devices and as soon as my backs turned you turn into something that looks like a straggler on a hen night for the terminally inelegant!"

"Cheers" came a sarcastic mutter from beneath the covers,

"Fortunately we got away with it, but next time we might not be so lucky! That's why today we're going to do some serious work on Davina, by this evening you'll be just the little lady I've been talking about-" he paused "Lister? Lister! Wake up you irritating little she-male!" but it was pointless, Lister had simply gone back to sleep, once again displaying that marvellous skill of his where he can sleep through any situation, no matter how annoying.

Rimmer spent several minutes quivering with rage next to the bed, his eyes reduced to mere slits, nostrils stretching further and further outwards into the big wide world "When he wakes up" he told Brassica, who'd just entered the room carrying a silver breakfast tray "tell him he's a git"

The female mechanoid nodded the once, setting an internal reminder as Rimmer stomped his way out of the room, cursing Lister with every obscenity known to man.

Brassica was just setting the tray down on the bed side table as the covers rustled, Lister poked his head out and performed a quick glance around the room "is he gone?" he asked, dragging himself upright.

"Yes. He told me to tell you, you're a git."

Lister grinned "yeah, I heard."

"I couldn't help but overhear the conversation prior to my immediate entrance. Sir, do you not think it would be in your best interests to take benefit of the additional tutoring Mister Rimmer has offered you?" said Brassica, as she delicately deposited the tray onto Lister's lap, who pulled a face at her suggestion.

"Ya kiddin' aren't you? If I sit through another Remedial Rimmer Re-gender Class I'll loose my mind…probably loose what's left of me hair as well!"

Brassica gave a small smile before perching on the end of the bed as Lister tucked into his breakfast, she turned her head slightly to one side and asked, quite suddenly and with more eagerness than first planned "What is Kryten like?"

Lister stopped eating and looked at Brassica, he quickly swallowed and answered in a rather unhelpful manner "He's…well…a mechanoid."

Brassica nodded patiently "I had noticed. I meant-" she paused and Lister could've sworn her cheek plates glowed a little "I was rather hoping you could detail some of the more notable aspects of his personality, so that I might gain a greater and more comprehensive understanding of his character…"

After spending several seconds working out what Brassica had actually said to him, Lister went "Oh. Yeah I get you now…Krytes well, he's great. Really is. I mean, he's probably the most normal person in me life, even if his guilt chip could put the Grand Canyon in the shade!"

"I hear he can…lie" she said,

"Oh yeah, Kryten can lie like a crooked Californian Criminal Lawyer - he's gotten so good at it now, I don't believe a word he says anymore!"

Lister knew this itself was a lie, sure Kryten could tell a couple of fibs, problem was there were so utterly unbelievable. In what situation would it be noble or helpful for you to say 'Don't look now but there's a sixty year old clog dancer about to attack you with a pair of curling tongs and an overripe mango!'? Kryten's lies were about as realistic as an extra improbable episode of the A Team.

Brassica's optical systems whirred and clicked as they widened in girly awe "Oh my" she whispered "I've…I've never met a mechanoid who can be lenient with the truth before!"

"Lenient?" Lister laughed "Sweetheart, Krytes is _incredibly _selfish with the truth, he only gives it out when he has to!" he paused, allowing Brassica to savour this news of metallic rebellion, a blatant disregard for basic programming "and he swears too!"

This proved to be nearly too much for the fem-mech, she gave an audible gasp and struggled for a several seconds to find the right words to express her emotions "Curse words?!" She squeaked,

"Swears like a drunken Astro with tourettes!" said Lister, polishing off the last of his breakfast,

"But surely….his programming, his pre-determined passive nature - wouldn't this prevent him from performing such human vices?"

"Kryten broke his programming yonks ago, I helped him do it!"

Brassica lapsed into a contemplative silence, her eyes were still wide, shining with the same youthful adoration worn by most teenage girls at a boy band concert. She was just about to speak when Kryten came tottering into the room, sets of clothes hanging off his arms. He stopped as he noticed Brassica "Oh, I do apologise. I didn't mean to intrude."

"Forget Krytes, doesn't matter" said Lister, scrambling out of bed to give Kryten a hand with the clothes

"I wondered sir if you'd given any thought as to what you're going to wear today."

Lister blinked "clothes?"

"In a little bit more detail than that sir!"

"No" admitted Lister, eyeing the pile of clothes with great unease "Fashion was never really my thing…"

"Perhaps you'd like me to pick something out for you, sir?" asked Kryten, his left eye straying in the direction of Brassica who had now dedicated her run time to cleaning the opposite side of the room.

Lister struggled not to smirk. Maybe it has something to do with him having to pretend to be a woman, but he couldn't help but find Kryten and Brassica's behaviour rather sweet. Obviously, if the pair spent some time together, something would begin to blossom between them…failing that, the room would get a bloody good clean!

"Nah Krytes, I'm fine. I'll get Cat to give me a hand, he said summat about trying a top with a lower neckline today" at this he pulled a worried face "Listen, you get off….Brassica?"

"Yes?" she appeared at his side in record time,

"Why don't you hang out with Kryten, there's nowt for you to do-"

"Well actually sir" said Kryten, preparing to run through his 'To Do List' "The bathroom needs cleaning, the skirting boards need wiping, the chandelier could do with a good dusting, the-"

"Kryten!" Lister managed to interrupt "Just go, okay. Go, you bad ass you!"

Brassica was simply short circuiting with delight "Perhaps Kryten, if you're not too busy we could take a stroll down to the Laundry Room and…sort the colours from the whites?" she coyly lowered her eyes to the floor and her core temperature rose several degrees.

Kryten beamed, his list of duties slipping into his recycle bin never to be seen again "Oh, why Brassica, I'd simply love to!". Offering her his arm, the pair left Lister's room, engaged in a deep and meaningful discussion on Fabric Softener.

Is there anything sweeter than a pair of mechanoids in love?


	19. Chapter 19

That evening, after begrudgingly letting Rimmer give him a couple more pointers, Lister found himself sat in the Drinking Lounge of the S.S Centurion with only the aforementioned bitter hologram for company.

Lister sighed "Can I go back to my room yet?" he asked wearily,

"No" snapped Rimmer as best he could out of the side of his mouth, he would be livid if the chaps found out how unimpressed Davina was at the further prospect of their company.

There was short pause, lasting no more than a few nanoseconds at best "How 'bout now?"

"No."

"Now?"

Rimmer snorted angrily "Listy, what makes you think that I'd have changed in my mind in the last three seconds?"

"This, Rimmer, is torture - I was hoping you'd put me out of me misery…" Lister began to toy with the curls of his hair, slowly twisting them around his fingers. To him it was therapeutic but little did he know this simple act was making a lot of men feel rather….peculiar. Such feminine behaviour was bound to cause some flurry of excitement in a testosterone heavy environment.

"What? By letting you go back to your room?" sniffed Rimmer,

"Either that or shooting me in the head - either way man, it'd stop the agony."

This was news to Rimmer. Fresh off the presses, the ink still wet and the paper still hot. "I'm getting the vague impression that, somehow and I haven't the foggiest idea why, you're not enjoying this evening?"

Lister rolled his eyes "Wow, are you physic or somethin'? You totally read my mind with that one, Rimmer!"

The hologram let both the insult and the unladylike behaviour slide by without reproval, "C'mon Listy" he said "Where's your sense of fun? I used to dream that one day I'd end up in an environment like this" he gazed fondly around the room and sighed happily "Elegant, stimulating, cultured-"

"Boring…" interrupted Lister, mournfully gazing into his drink

"This is not boring."

Cat came sidling over, he glided into the space next to Lister "this is boring" he announced, deftly stealing Lister's drink straight from his hand and taking a sip "I've seen morgues with more of an atmosphere than this shindig!"

Rimmer started to turn red "Number 1" he hissed "this is not a 'shindig', this is an exclusive gathering of the offspring of some of the most influential people ever to grace the galaxy. Number 2, it is not boring - it just….isn't to your tastes that's all" his eyes narrowed "then again, I can hardly expect you two to appreciate the glamour of this situation, you've only ever ate and drank in places with laminated menus!"

"Rimmer, I'm just not comfortable in these kinds of places, y'know what I mean."

"What is there for you to feel uncomfortable about?" demanded Rimmer, to which Lister could only reply with an incredulous expression and a casual wave towards his outwardly effeminate body.

"Ah" said Rimmer, indulging in a brief second of looking sheepish before he said, rather tartly "I'm surprised this whole experience is new to you…"

Lister's and Cat's eyebrows performed a double show of climbing their respective foreheads at an impressive speed

"I mean, out of all the weird, awkward, socially unacceptable things you've done in your time, I'm surprised this is the one experience that causes you the most discomfort. In fact, I'm mildly impressed you've not done this sort of thing before" a smirk "it seems right up your alley."

Lister gave a frantic look, a fleeting wriggle of expression that tried to be both defensive and apologetic at the same time, it was more than enough to tell Rimmer just what he wanted to know. "Ahhhhh Listy" he said, grinning manically and lounging back in his seat "Am I right in assuming that you _have _done this before?"

"I was drunk" hissed Lister

"Have you considered getting that phrase patented? You use it so frequently, it seems a shame not to cash in on it"

Cat dropped his voice several tones and leaned towards Lister "So, how come you dressed like a lady?"

Lister sighed " It was a mates stag do and Bazza had nicked his mums new dress for the groom to wear y'know, as a stag do prank but he chickened out last second, he didn't want to do it. I'd had a few drinks by then and thought nothing of it, so I put this frock on. We get to this club later on and there's this girl wearing exactly the same dress I was wearin' - it is really embarrassing!"

"I can imagine" sniffed Rimmer

"It got worse" said Lister "I looked better in it than she did"

"It's surprising Lister, that under that scruffy exterior lies a very well nourished ego!"

The holograms comment went unheeded, as Lister continued with his story, more for his own sake rather than anyone elses "We copped off at the end of the night - it was really beautiful actually, we matched - all coordinated y'know."

"Now that's what I call a happy ending" said Cat.

Rimmer pulled a face and was just about to open his mouth when he spotted Isaac making his way across the room, a glass of port in a crystal glass clasped in his hand. There was just enough time for Rimmer to hiss "behave" before the young man was stood in front of the trio.

He beamed brightly, suggesting that the drink he was holding was in no way the first "Me and a few of the chaps were just off to play a spot of a pool and we were wondering if you'd like to play, Mr Rimmer?"

"Me?" squeaked the respective individual (respective in the sense of Rimmer being the topic of discussion rather than respective by way of being polite) "but, I don't know how to play…"

Isaac made a funny 'ffppttt sound with his lips as he flicked his hair out of his eyes and downed his port, "Pish-posh man, you'll soon pick it up" he beamed once again, swaying slightly "We'll be in the pool room" he went to move away but suddenly changed his mind "the pool table room" he explained, quite unnecessarily "not the swimming pool room…though we do have one on board…." with that he walked away, occasionally taking a step or two in the wrong direction.

Rimmer rose to his feet, dizzy and breathless with excitement (or at least he would have been breathless had he not been dead) - he had just been invited to fraternise with the big time boys! This was it, after years and years of dreaming and wanting it had happened! Arnold Jonathon Rimmer had finally moved up that smegging social ladder! He'd have liked to have savoured this euphoric feeling for a few seconds longer, but Lister felt compelled to comment.

"You do know you're going to get ribbed" he said coolly.

"I beg your pardon" cried Rimmer, horrified.

"They're gonna get you over there, pretend to be your chum then slaughter you at a game of pool" he sighed and glanced up into Rimmer's crestfallen face "it's an old trick…"

"But…why would they do that"

"It's probably because they hate you so much" piped up Cat, as usually his timing perfect, his tact…not so much.

"Cat!" snapped Lister

"Well it's true - they hate him, I hate him, you hate him, Kryten would like to hate him and-"

"Cat, you will you shut it!" snapped Lister once more, this time with enough ferocity for the feline to duly close his mouth and pout silently, the human turned to Rimmer, who was still reeling from the deception he'd just endured "Why don't you let me play for you."

"What?"

"Lemme play. He never bothered asking me, so why don't I just tag along and-"

"No!" said Rimmer firmly "Absolutely not, no way a month of Ionian Sundays! For starters, ladies don't play pool! They play…bridge or some other delicate card game with people called Gwendolyn and Leticia whilst eating crumpets and drinking lemon tea. Secondly, you'll go in there and make an arse of yourself - before you know it you'll be pished, playing pool like someone with Alzimers on an ocean liner in a typhoon and that's us found out!"

"Rimmer" said Lister soothingly "Trust me okay, I'm just going to go in there, get your pride back and get out - I'll be good" he winked "girl guides promise" grinning mischievously, he flicked his hair and sashayed after Isaac.

"He'll be a long time" muttered Cat before slouching after him.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: I come bearing updates, please forgive me for being such a lazy writer! I've been busy, no excuse I know, so rest assured I shall now be making more of a concerted effort to update more frequently.

I'd like to thank: **Radar- rox, Kellyofsmeg, TheSummoningDark, robster72, E Nagrom **and **whatevergirl**. Cheers for having the time, the kindess and the insanity to review my ramblings!

Cheers me dears!

Sunny

XXX

* * *

Rimmer was blessed with that enviable skill of sensing when an idea was going to go 'tits up' way before it ever made the slightest inclination skywards. The second Lister had sashayed over to the Pool table and announced that he was to take Rimmer's place in their game, the hologram felt a surge of despair, horror and embarrassment take over his body to the point where his knees nearly buckled with the strain.

Jeremy, among others, had blinked. There was a curious expression on his face that managed to mingle confusion and distaste into one easily wearable mask. In their world, women didn't play pool. It was entirely unheard of.

"You want to play…" he had said, cautiously rolling the words around his mouth, not altogether understanding meaning of them "in place of Mr Rimmer…"

Lister had smiled warmly and nodded. Next to him, Rimmer inwardly groaned, his toes curling inside his hologramatic boots at the mere thought of what could possibly go wrong next.

Seconds ticked by before Michael, the tall blond who had escorted Lister to dinner, piped up. Unlike his fellow companions, he wore a pleasant and inviting grin on his face "Surely lads" he said, addressed those assembled around the pool table "you're not worried that Miss Davina here will beat you. Still, it seems only fair to give her a sporting chance" and with another grin, he handed his pool cue to Lister.

What happened next didn't exactly fill Rimmer with confidence, if anything it merely succeeded in driving him deeper and deeper into a ferociously whirling pool of woe. Lister made a complete cock up of a shot. The cue juddered along the stretch of green felt, clunking clumsily into the nearest ball that set off like a whirling dervish, knocking two of his opponent's balls down the netted pockets.

A tiny ripple of giggles swept through the assembled gentlemen. Brows were raised and eyes were rolled but Lister didn't seem to take any noticed. Instead, he stood up, flicking his hair as he did so, sighed and wore a frustrated look on his face.

"I'm not very good at this" he admitted to Henry, who stood at his side, struggling to keep a smirk under control.

Rimmer's eyes bulged out of his head. What the smeg was the little goit saying? Where was this "Pool God" Lister had referred to often enough!? Seeing as there was little else Rimmer could do at that moment in time, he kept schtum, but took to glowering at the little git nonetheless.

Time and time again, he was forced to watch as Lister played pool like someone who had never played pool ever in his (well, her) life. He cringed as Lister giggled at the white ball shooting off the table and bouncing along the floor, only to be retrieved, polished and replaced by a mechanoid servant.

"You do realise one of the aims of the game is to keep the balls _on_ the table" drawled Isaac, taking the white ball out of the mechanoid's hands and buffing it gently against his shirt.

Lister frowned a little "I know that!" he said, "But I never said I was Pool Goddess, did I? No, I just bend over in a provocative manner and smack the balls in the right direction!" Isaac's eyes quietly doubled in size and glazed over, leaving his face wearing a suitably gormless expression, incoherent mumblings tumbling from between his gaping lips.

The game progressed with only marginal improvement where Lister was concerned. When he eventually did manage to pot one of his own balls, he jumped up and down, clapping in girlish delight and laughing to himself. "I'm getting better" he said, grinning "So…anyone want to make this more interesting?"

"More….interesting?" asked Henry

"Yeah, like, making bets. Money"

There was a disconcerted ruffle among the men. They'd never introduced money to any of their leisure pursuits. Lister took to leaning against his pool cue and surveying the table through the clusters of his false eyelashes "That is, unless of course you're scared…"

That was the green light for all of them. Jeremy strode forward, slapped a fifty dollarpound note on the table edge and took the opening shot. Lister lost. But chirpily suggested another few games "double or nothing".

It took Rimmer a while to catch on to what his bunkmate was doing. With each passing match, Lister upped his game. He started pulling off more ambitious shots just as the bets placed were getting higher and higher. His opponents could only watch in a mixture of admiration and horror as the trick shots came into play and ball after ball was sunk into the pockets.

As the evening wore on, Lister showed very little mercy. As far as trouncings go, this was one good and proper trouncing that was unlikely to be forgotten in a hurry by the crew of the S. S Centurian.

"I thought you said you weren't any good at Pool" said Isaac, in a small voice as he handed another roll of notes to Lister

"Beginners luck" dismissed Lister, tucking the money into the pocket of his jeans and setting the table for the next game "its Rimmer you should be complimenting. He taught me everything I know."

A dozen eyes swivelled up to meet the holograms confused gaze. He coughed and attempted to stand like a man who plays a lot of pool.

"So you're quite the master of Pool, eh Mr Rimmer?" said Michael,

"Master?" laughed Lister, leaning over in preparation for his next shot. A dozen pair of eyes quickly darted left to catch a glimpse of jeans clinging to his well rounded bottom. "Rimmer is well and truly" –thunk- "King of the Cues" he continued, completely oblivious to the attention his behind was receiving.

Behind his usual mask of superior indifference and mild contempt, Rimmer grinned and felt all warm and unusually fuzzy inside. The S S Centurians now looked at him in a new, altogether more respectful light, and it was all down to the lies of a Scouser wearing women's clothes.

"Perhaps you'd like a friendly game, Mr Rimmer?" enquired Henry

Rimmer's mouth sagged into a shapeless hole before it slicked itself back into a sneering smile "Well" he began, but never got any further, and part of him was insanely grateful.

At that second, the whole ship started to shake, the lights flickered and dimmed and the unholy screeching of machines being pushed to their limits rose from the bowels of the ship. Before anyone could say or do anything, there was an almighty lurch and everyone was thrown to the floor, but still the ship continued to buck and jerk uncontrollably.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** I know I'm not updating enough, but I finally got this one out there. It's a bit long, but I guess I need to be upping my game here guys and actually using plot development rather than just dreaming about it.

A special thanks to: **E. Nagrom, kellyofsmeg** (who always edited this little puppy), **Radar-rox, Feline Ranger and Sophoclesdude** for their lovely reviews! Concrit always welcome!

Danke!

Sunny

XXX

* * *

Then, there existed those brief, almost sordidly short seconds of calm before the proverbial storm. In one breath, the rumbling halted and worried glances were swapped, but then – as hastily as it had started – the almighty shaking recommenced with additional vigour.

It was then that all hell was let loose. The mechanoid waiters appeared in their dozens, descending upon the room and adjoining corridor like a herd of reverse-metallic- locusts, saving and salvaging everything in their path. They quickly bundled anything expensive into 

ornate cabinets which were carefully bolted, various other items of furniture were fastened to wall or the floor or anything of substantial weight and size _not_ to go sailing off at the first tilt of the ship.

Amongst the chaos, Lister (quite oddly) felt very much at home. Crashes were, unfortunately, a regular occurrence in his life. So much so that lately he'd been treating any 'disruptions to their pre-destined flight path by an unplanned and haphazard landing' with worrying indifference. Crash landings had played such a part in his existence that, somewhat paradoxically, they'd faded from significance.

As he cast an expert eye around the room, he quickly realised just how much Rimmer might have in common with the crew of the S.S Centurion. Two had taken to cowering under the pool table, with only the lack of a pair of colanders to spoil the cowardly effect. Another man was busy convincing four of the mechanoid waiters to form a 'protective cocoon' around his trembling body, shamelessly stuttering that if they didn't they could certainly "kiss goodbye to their place in Silicone Heaven". Over on the other side of the room one man had fainted, two were engaged in furious (and no doubt false) worship to whichever God would show them enough mercy to survive the crash and one more had snapped a salute and started singing "God Save the Queen" in a slow, mournful voice.

'Definitely a group for Rimmer' Lister thought.

Amongst the pandemonium a few voices cut a path through the heaving, sweating, and screaming block of panic. Gregory had somehow wrestled his way into further command. "We need to get down to the flight deck" he announced dramatically "See if we can find out what the _bladdy_ hell is going on!" He gave a decisive nod to those assembled around him, obviously crewmembers whose courage and backbones prevented them from cowering, bribing, praying or panic singing with the rest.

With his group of loyal followers (of which included Michael, Isaac and two others Lister had yet to meet) the host dashed from the room. Lister followed them. After all, what else was there for him to do? Cat, amazingly, had climbed atop an unnecessarily ostentatious china cabinet and was watching the madness unfold with dozy bemusement. Rimmer had joined the two other "Pool Table Cowerers" in their spineless crusade and was currently curled up in an impossibly small ball of hologram, sobbing uncontrollably and cursing everyone who'd ever done him wrong (Lister, most notably). Kryten was no-where to be seen, so it seemed to Lister that the obvious choice of action lay with Gregory's band of intrepid gentlemen, on their way to discover the source of the problem. After all, with his experience, he could be a valuable help.

As he ran alongside Gregory and the others, a large section of the corridor wall bulged and groaned out of shape, confirming Lister's suspicion that they'd got caught in a meteorite storm. A fairly dense one by the feel of it and despite the S. S Centurions vast size and expense, Lister doubted it could survive such a ferocious volley of meteorite attack for much longer. The run to the flight deck took a good five minutes, if that, but to Lister (and no doubt to others) it stretched out, further and further, lasting for what seemed and felt like 

an indeterminate age. Once or twice Lister lost his footing and had to clamber back to his feet as the ship bucked, ducked, rolled and writhed with each new onslaught of rock.

The mechanoid piloting the ship was attempting to simultaneously apologise for "sticky wicket" he'd gotten his masters into, initiate his shut-down process as well as swerving and shirting the craft around, under or over (and if absolutely necessary, through) the meteorites. Gregory flung his breathless self into the co-pilots chair, adopted full control and shouted "It's a meteorite storm – a big one!". He might as well have told them all that water was wet, the sun was hot and flat-pack bookcases are more trouble than they're worth. Talk about the smegging obvious!

Isaac, hovering behind him, turned a colour often described by most paint charts as "Off-White" "Look, it's getting worse" he cried. Clearly, adding an unnecessary verbal commentary to the proceedings were this group's forte.

"Can't we pull out the storm?" queried one of the men Lister had yet to formally meet. His eyebrows had formed a fuzzy V on the top of his nose "If we carry on like this, we'll get torn to shreds in a matter of minutes!"

The other unknown man began to whimper "What are we to do?" he wailed.

Gregory clenched his jaw, tossed back his head and rolled his shoulders before announcing in a voice swiped from a Hollywood Action Blockbuster "We ride it out".

It was then that they all spotted something truly catastrophic. A meteor the size of the Wembley Stadium was tumbling towards them, it was a good distance away from them yet but close enough to dispel any feeling of calm.

"Change of plan" snivelled Gregory, displaying a truly amazing change of heart, all under the space of two seconds. "To the escape pods – pronto!"

Michael attempted some intellectual, near invisible resistance, by referring back to the former plan "But you just said-"

He was cut short by Gregory snapping at him: "Goddamit Michael! I know what I said but we're all bladdy doomed, so stop nancying around like a great girls blouse and skedaddle to an escape pod!"

Lister, nauseated by the unfolding scene, rolled his eyes in a manner usually reserved solely for Rimmer and dropped into Gregory's recently and swiftly vacated co-pilot chair. "Okay, turn all the boosters on the left side of the ship to maximum power – even realign some reverse thrust jets if you can-"

"Wha- the left side…what in blazes-" spluttered Gregory, barging his way back towards Lister, his face taut with ill-disguised fury and envy.

"We're taking evasive action" Lister hastily explained "How much fuel is there in the right side fuel tanks?" he asked the mechanoid positioned at the Science console.

"Precisely 2385.2 gallons Ma'am"

"Transfer it all to the left surplus fuel tank"

"Now wait just one second!" barked Gregory "I give the orders around here!"

As if in complete contradiction to that statement, the Science-console mechanoid piped up "Fuel transferred to the left surplus tank. All available boosters and thrusters on the left side set to maximum power."

"Brutal – now, flick the ignition force to its highest possible setting, we might scorch a few bits but what the hell?!"

Isacc, Michael and the two unknowns looked from Davina, expertly handling the complex console desk as if it were nothing more than an idiot-proof remote, to Gregory, who was breathing erratic and going a funny colour. Their eight eyes then turned to the magnificent stretch of plexiglass and there was a collective intake of breath. The mega meteorite was far too close for comfort.

"When I give the order, initiate the ignition process to the left engines only, okay?" said Lister,

"Why wait?" whimpered Isaac "Sooner the better I say!"

"Not here" explained Lister "No ship would be able to handle such a drain on the fuel and power sources for more than a few minutes. If we swerve too soon, we'd risk scraping across the meteorite – not good. We need to wait till the last possible second"

Gregory narrowed his eyes "I'm intrigued by this 'we' you keep referring to…I've yet to hear anyone else lay claim to this…insane venture. If this stunt fails, the blame will be placed firmly on _your_ shoulders"

Very Rimmery – sarkiness and finger pointing in the face of adversity.

"Direct collision is two minutes and twenty seconds" came the call of one of the mechanoids.

Licking the last layer of lip-gloss of his lips, Lister slid his fingers round the soft padded of the steering column. He prayed he was doing the right thing. This craft was no Starbug – who knows what it could handle?

"Direct collision in one minute 30 seconds…" Time flittered away like grains of sand in the wind. "One minute five seconds…fifty seconds….forty-five…thirty seconds."

"Now!" cried Lister, wrenching the steering controls as far left as its housing would allow. There was a deafening roar as the fuel in the tanks was ignited, its potent state and 

excessive use causing a fairly sizable explosion that blasted out of all the activated boosters and thrusters. The resulting force threw the S. S Centurion onto its left side with all the grace of an enraged sumo-wrestler, just in time for the lumbering lump of rock to come tumbling through, merely a foot away from the hull of the ship.

There was an anxious wait as the meteorite glided beneath them, the ship shaking and juddering with the effort to remain at such an unnecessarily taxing angle.

"Direct collision averted. Meteorite passing out of our contact range!" cried the mechanoid at the science console, allowing his 'Immense Relief' chip and 'Utter Joy' board to overheat simultaneously. Lister grinned.

"Bravo ma'am" said the mech who was supposed to be piloting.

"Yes." Came a voice from the back of the flight deck "I must say that was the most impressive feat of foolhardy thoughtlessness I've seen in all my days." It was Gregory – a vision of disgust, contempt and ridicule all working together in perfect harmony.

The atmosphere in the room cracked. Seconds before the air had been heavy with the wonders of survival – now, it stung. At Gregory's words some people had murmured agreements and nodded sagely.

"You what?" spat Lister, for he really couldn't help it.

"Did you for one second give your little _plan_ any thought? Did you perhaps ignore the fact that your stunt could have killed every last man on board?"

"And mechanoid" spoke the one in the pilot seat.

"Mechanoid 189 - "addressed Gregory, not even taking the effort to look at the droid "you will discharge yourself immediately, activate your shut-down sequence and pack yourself away. You have outlived your usage." He paused "And as for you, Ms Lister – the next time you feel the urge to take control and risk everyone's neck, you could at least try to muster up the decency to ask first. It's only polite" and with that he turned away.

Lister flung himself out of the co-pilots chair "Risk everyone's neck? You arsehole, I just _saved_ everyone's neck!"

"We had our own escape plan; there was no need for you to interfere"

"What escape plan? Running away, whimpering? Oh do forgive me-" drawled Lister sarcastically "I can't believe I made a mess of _that_ foolproof, spinelessly pitiful attempt to save your own skin at the cost of everyone elses!"

It was at that comment that Gregory snapped. He came storming right back to where Lister was stood "You" he said, leering uncomfortably close to Lister's face "_You _need to learn some respect. This is _my_ ship so you will abide by my rules. You are never to speak to me or 

another member of this crew in that manner or tone ever again."He exhaled angrily, "You need to know your place, you ignorant little bitch"

Lister said nothing; his fingers had curled inwards, balling into a tight fist. A fist he longed to drive into the dead centre of Gregory's sneering face at a painfully astonishing speed. The silence lasted a few seconds longer, giving Lister ample time to glare at the ships host, his brown eyes narrowed to razor-thin slits. Gregory merely smirked "Not so mouthy after a reprimand are you, darling?"

He touched Lister's shoulder and gently nudged him towards the open door "Oh, and one more thing…" There was a smirk, the real slippery, self-righteous smirk of a man who knew he'd already won this spat "They don't call it the cockpit for nothing!"

Half blinded with rage, Lister shoved his way out of the flight deck doo, hissing "bastards!" just loud enough for everyone to hear and ignore.


End file.
